The Life and Times of MacGyver and Co
by aqaws321
Summary: A place for all of my MacGyver fics that are independent and too small to be posted individually.
1. Betrayal

A muffled sound of pain made its way through the room. Then- silence.

Silence, until a gloating laugh cut through the stillness. A wounded voice cut through the laughter, saying, "I can't believe you'd do this, Jack!"

There was no reply, but the brunet watched the blond struggle with his restraints, a smug smile plastered on his face. The cruel reply crushed all hope of leniency that the younger man might've had. "Never trust anyone, Mac. Especially people that claim to be your friends."

The speaker, one Jack Dalton, stood and began to pace around the man sitting on the floor and struggling with his cuffs. "Time's almost up, kid."

Angus MacGyver had been faced with many dire situations in his life, but none as stressful as this. He didn't raise his eyes from his hands as he continued to struggle and pleaded, "Jack, just a few more minutes. Please."

Jack shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "Ten seconds. Nine. Eight."

He continued to count, watching gleefully as the younger man's struggles increased as time began to run out. The time hit zero; there was a deafening beeping noise, and then-

MacGyver scowled up the older man, embarrassment painting his fair skin red. "Can you turn that off, Jack?"

Jack laughed, a broad grin splitting his weathered face. "Geez, someone's cranky that they lost."

The blond tried to raise a hand to smack the older man, but was stopped by his restraints. With a growl, he yanked hard on them, then winced when his fingers began to throb. Jack returned from the kitchen, where he had hit the 'off' button on the oven timer, just in time to see MacGyver's ill-fated attempt to free himself.

The brunet sat on the couch, grinning, while he pretended not to notice the glares that were being sent his way. Whistling, he grabbed the remote and began to flip through the channels on the TV.

There was a long, drawn out groan, and then MacGyver muttered, just loud enough to be heard over the TV, "Jack. Can you get me out of these."

The flat voice, devoid of inflection, made Jack grin. "Think there's something missing there, buddy."

A long silence. Jack turned off the television and moved his gaze to his trapped friend. Finally, the kid let his head thunk onto the living room table that his hands were cuffed around, and muttered, "Please."

Jack stood slowly, the picture of leisure. "All you had to do was ask, man."

There was no response other than the glare that would've made a lesser man run for the hills. Jack bent down by his friend and pretended to examine the trap his fingers were stuck in. Then he grinned, fighting the laughter that threatened to overtake him. "I cant believe you've never heard of Chinese handcuffs before. Push your fingers together."

The look on MacGyver's face as the Chinese handcuffs fell from his fingers proved too much, and Jack dissolved into laughter as his best friend grabbed a nearby pillow off of the couch and began to hit Jack with it in mock fury.

Riley walked through the door, a couple shopping bags in her hand. Bozer was right behind her, and they were laughing happily at some joke. When they turned around and were greeted by the sight of the two men roughhousing on the living room floor, they froze.

Jack looked up from the middle of the mess, surprised by the sudden interruption. Pillows were in disarray around the brunet and the blond. Jack grinned sheepishly. "He started it. I was just defending myself."

Riley raised one eyebrow, pointing her free hand to the blond that was currently being held in a headlock by Jack, his face turning red as he tried to struggle against the older man, but was held captive almost effortlessly. "I think you might be defending yourself a bit too well."

Jack looked down in comic surprise, chuckling as he released his friend, who rolled away, gasping dramatically for air. "Sorry, buddy, guess I forgot you were there. You should try and defend yourself sometimes, you know."

Jack ducked, laughing, as a pillow was launched at his head. Bozer, finally having recovered from his shock, exclaimed, "Nope. Not in my living room. Not anymore. You two pick this up while Riley and I finish getting the barbecue stuff ready in the back."

Jack and MacGyver took in the destruction of the couch and the general disarray of the room around them, then traded sheepish grins. They stood, beginning to pick up, when Jack muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Chinese handcuffs." MacGyver let out a yelp of indignation, then dove at his friend again.

Riley rolled her eyes, leaving Bozer to yell at the other two men and get them to clean up while she began to prepare the burgers for the grill. As she heard a couple of protesting shouts, she smiled.

It was good to have a family again.


	2. your presence is an anchor

**Summary: MacGyver has anxiety. His friends help him cope.**

 **Warnings: Anxiety and descriptions of anxiety and anxiety attacks. Nothing too graphic, but read carefully if those are triggers of yours.**

 **Please note that MacGyver's experience with anxiety is based heavily off of my own, and is not on any way meant to represent how others deal with/experience it.**

 **A/N: Had a bit of a rough day today, ended up projecting my problems onto MacGyver.**

* * *

MacGyver is a pretty easy-going person, able to let most things roll off his back. He keeps his mind on the larger picture, and doesn't have a lot of trouble coping.

Most times.

There are other times, though, when the buzz of worry and anxiousness and- everything, really, builds up beneath his skin and becomes overwhelming. When he can barely focus on what he's doing through the haze that threatens to overwhelm him. When he can barely function.

Sometimes he's in the middle of a sentence when it starts boiling up, when it begins to overwhelm him, when he can't focus. He tries to cram himself into the smallest corner he can find, knowing that he can't have his back to others, no matter what.

Bozer sits by him, watching the exits, and holding his hand, anchoring him to reality. He chatters on about his day, asks Mac what's going on at work, tries to wheedle Riley's phone number out of him. He doesn't push Angus to talk until he's ready, but he doesn't let him drown in his own mind, either.

Sometimes he's at work when the waves begin to drag him beneath their deceptively calm surface into the whirl of the currents underneath. He finds a deserted briefing room and builds things with the paperclips that are present in each, letting his mind go blank as his attention is focused on the task at hand.

Patricia slides a key underneath the door that allows him to lock the room from the inside if he wants. She makes sure to mark the room as 'Do not disturb' on the schedule.

Sometimes the build-up is slow, painstaking, and he can feel it coming. He tries to fight against it, but sometimes, he's too tired. He sits on the couch and stares into the distance, the only sign of his agitated state his breathing, which comes out harsh and uneven. He lacks the energy to make any other movement.

Riley sits silently by him, her arm brushing his, her hand clutching a mug of his favorite tea that she quietly hands him. The warmth chases away the coldness that seeps into his bones and threatens to overwhelm him. Riley opens the drawer of the table by the couch, pulling out an IKEA catalogue, and begins to discuss furniture choices for her new apartment, and MacGyver is slowly able to join in.

Sometimes he feels it buzzing beneath his skin, forcing a frantic energy into everything he does, and he tries to clamp down on it. He washes his hands slowly, he prepares food diligently, he turns pages at a rate that would frustrate turtles. His movements are calm and purposeful, and there is no rush.

He tries to hide the way he is pushing against the energy that drives him to scream, to hit something, to do anything to relieve the pressure building inside of him.

When he gives in and grabs his shoes, sliding them on quickly and tying the laces with slightly trembling hands, Jack is beside him. They run together, through the familiar streets and around the city, running until MacGyver is ready to stop. Until he has exhausted the energy that threatened to overwhelm him. Jack is untiring, whether they run one mile or ten.

Sometimes an attack will happen in public. When it does, his friends ensure that he doesn't need to talk much if he doesn't want to, knowing that he is embarrassed with the stuttering that invades his speech after anxiety strikes. They don't smother him, but instead provide a sometimes-needed barrier against the judgement of the world.

Angus sometimes feels as if he is slipping away from reality, but his friends anchor him to the earth, holding him close with warm embraces and acceptance.


	3. Fatal Flower

**Takes place around two years pre-canon. Written for TinkerBella7, full prompt at bottom.**

* * *

Jack watched as his partner crumpled to the ground, the sound of the gunshot echoing in his ears. There was a shout of fury, and then the gunman dropped to the ground, a bullet planted in his heart.

Jack turned his gaze away from the man he had just shot, gazing in worry at his partner, who had yet to stand up. Jack knelt by the younger man, worry sparking in his gaze, only to feel relief when the blond's eyes opened and his wheezing breaths seemed to even out a bit.

The older man helped his partner sit up, running his gaze worriedly over the younger man. "You hurt anywhere?"

MacGyver shrugged, still looking a little dazed from his sudden drop to the concrete. "Think 'm fine. Just a little shook up. I think that guy missed."

Jack felt a surge of anger replace the relief that had filled him just moments earlier. "You could've been killed, you idiot," He growled out.

MacGyver scowled up at him as the blond struggled into a standing position. "Excuse me? I just saved your life."

Jack felt his anger surge, and he towered over the younger man; this was made easier by the way the kid was still hunched over slightly. "You shouldn't have gotten in front of the bullet."

"What, and just let you get hurt?"

Jack nodded, and he saw his partner's eyes widen in disbelief as he began to become angry as well. "That's ridiculous, Jack, and you know it. I'm not just about to stand by and let you get hurt!"

The brunet opened his mouth to argue again, but MacGyver cut him off. "I think I'll get a cab home. See you later, Jack."

The younger man turned away, and Jack was about to shout after him. Suddenly, though, the blond collapsed to his knees, his hand going to his side, underneath his jacket. The younger man pulled his hand away from his side and held it up to his eyes. From over Mac's shoulder, Jack could see that the hand was covered in blood, the red liquid glistening sickeningly. Jack, at his friend's side in a few quick strides, quickly laid the younger man on his back. He hoped the wound, which had blossomed into view, a red fatal red rose that continued to grow over the kid's stomach, didn't have an exit wound. If it didn't have an exit wound that meant that gravity would help keep the blood inside.

His friend seized in pain as Jack attempted to stem the blood by shoving his jacket against the wound. A strangled cry escaped the younger man's lips, and Jack was barely aware of the agents that flooded the parking garage, finally having arrived after being alerted to the gunshot. Bizarrely, the thought floated through Jack's mind that they needed a better response time. He processed, somewhere in the part of his mind that wasn't completely preoccupied with his partner's pain, that someone had called an ambulance that was only a few moments away from arriving. The sirens added to the chaos of sounds that threatened to drown out everything else, but Jack was only focused on two sounds: his friend's ragged breaths and intermittent cries of pain.

The paramedics shouldered Jack aside so that they could take control of the situation; Jack barely had the presence of mind to immediately look for Patty. The woman was beside him, her face pale but her composure calm. She motioned for Jack to follow her, and they immediately ran for Thornton's car as fast as they could. The woman drove, Jack buckling himself into the passenger seat with trembling hands that were still stained with blood- his friend's blood.

As she drove, Jack's boss glanced over at him while pointing towards the glove compartment. "Wipes are in there. Clean off your hands."

Jack followed her instructions. He used the wipes to clean his hands and wrists until they stung, then grabbed a bottle offhand sanitizer and kept rubbing at his hands as he attempted to clean the sight of his friend's blood from his mind.

They reached the hospital quickly and were directed to wait in the waiting room while MacGyver was in surgery, with the assurance that when information became available on the younger man, they would have it.

The two friends waited for three long, agonizing hours before the doctor appeared in the waiting room. "Angus MacGyver?" She called.

Jack and Thornton made their way over to her. She smiled at them, and Jack felt himself relax as she said, "He's going to be fine. He suffered a gunshot wound to the abdomen, but somehow, nothing major was hit. It'll take a bit of rest before he's ready to be back on his feet, but this should have no major effects on him in the long run. He's in room 418 if you want to go see him."

Jack let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, ma'am."

He headed down the hall immediately, leaving Thornton to get the rest of the details from the doctor, such as how long he would need to stay in the hospital. Jack entered the younger man's hospital room to be greeted with the sight of his partner lying still on the bed, his eyes open, but clouded over by a drug-induced haze.

The older man lowered himself into the chair by the bed, leaning forward a bit so that his friend could see him. Angus asked him as he sat, in a way that was most likely produced by the drugs as he normally wasn't so blunt, "You st'll m'd at me?"

Jack laughed shakily. "Nah, buddy. I wasn't mad at you, really."

MacGyver's gaze floated lazily around the room before coming to rest on his partner's face. "Seem'd like it."

Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was worried. It's not supposed to be your job to save me; I'm supposed to save you."

MacGyver frowned. "'S not okay for you to die."

The brunet looked at his friend in a bit of confusion. "I know. But if it comes down to it, you better believe that I'd do everything I can to get you out alive."

The blond's hand twitched, as if he was trying to wave it to emphasize his next words but lacked the strength. "'M not gonna let you die either."

Jack was about to protest again when he saw the stubborn look in the kid's eye. He floundered for a moment as he realized what the younger man was trying to say. Jack might be willing to sacrifice everything to save MacGyver, but the blond was willing to do exactly the same.

A warm feeling blossomed into existence in Jack's chest.

Clearing his throat, the older man patted MacGyver's leg and said, "How about we just both do our best to stay out of trouble, huh?"

MacGyver nodded solemnly, his eyes wide and sincere. "S'nds good."

 _Man_ , Jack thought in amusement as he watched his friend's eyes begin to slide shut, _those drugs are taking effect fast_. Jack patted his partner's leg again, this time saying softly, "Just go to sleep, buddy."

Angus nodded, yawning once before settling back into his pillows and giving a small, contented sigh, and falling asleep almost immediately.

Patricia came into the room, resting a hand on the back of Jack's chair as she watched her sleeping agent. "How is he?"

Jack felt a tiny smile inch its way onto his face. "He's gonna be fine."

* * *

 **Please note that MacGyver didn't notice the bullet at first bc of shock, and then he was distracted. Also, I am, for once, employing the age-old excuse of Plot Convenience. Take note of my handwaving and ignore medical inaccuracies.**

 **Original prompt from TinkerBella7: I would love to see a story where Mac does something to save Jack's life and Jack flips out on Mac. Mac then takes off, unable to deal with Jack's anger and he's pissed about it too. So he like disappears but was actually hurt and Jack realizes Mac doesn't get that he's not really mad, he was SCARED that Mac was going to die and Jacl doesn't want Mac to trade his life for him. So he goes off to find him and apologize only Mac is hurt when he finds him.**

 **Not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it's close enough!**

 **P.S. For readers of _How to Let Mysterious Scientists and Substances Ruin Your Day,_ a new chapter will be up either tomorrow or Friday.**


	4. Lies, act I

**yo okay so here's the deal**

 **I'll post part 2 of this tomorrow, and then the final chapter of "Mysterious Scientists and Substances" on Sunday.**

 **Warnings: Torture. Not overly graphic, but it is there.**

 **Dedicated to the Fanfiction support staff bc I was going to post this earlier but I was having issues with my account and then I emailed them and they haven't responded yet but it started working after I emailed them so basically thanks guys keep up the good work woohoo hope you enjoy this.**

* * *

Lie to me, he says.

And so Jack does. He tells him that everything's going to be alright. That they're both safe and sound and at home. That they aren't in danger. He speaks until his voice grows hoarse, and then he keeps talking.

He speaks through the pain of his bruises and wounds, speaks even when their captors try to shut him up, speaks over their shouts.

He watches as his friend is shoved back into his cell, pale and shaking and barely conscious.

Jack spins a tale of two brothers, one tall and brown-haired and the other smaller and with straw-blond hair. He tells the story of how they met a princess that was just as capable of saving herself as anyone else was. The man keeps the tale going, each feat accomplished by the trio becoming more and more improbable as time goes on. Eventually, the story ends with the evil dragon being slain, and the trio living happily ever after.

Jack tries not to think about the fact that their own story has a high likelihood of ending in a very different way.

* * *

Lie to me, he pants between screams.

Jack cannot tear his eyes away from the spectacle that the blond presents, the way he hangs from the chains that dangle from the ceiling. Blood spatters his pants and his bare chest heaves with the effort of trying to draw air into his lungs.

Jack talks even when he is drowned out by the questions, by the laughter, by the taunts.

Even when he cannot be heard over the screams.

* * *

Lie to me, he begs.

Jack tells him that their people know where they are. That they're coming for them. He watches as his friend is taken away by the men in black, information that he does not have being demanded from him.

There's a lull in the conversation when Jack is alone, and there is no sound when his friend has been battered to the point of unconsciousness. The moment his eyes flicker open, though, Jack forces his tongue to move again, forces himself to talk through the painful rasp of his throat, and pours out comforts and lies.

* * *

Lie to me, he whispers.

Jack stops talking as his friend's eyes slip closed. He is sleeping, and Jack does not want to wake him.

The caution is unnecessary. Their captors notice the blond's slumber and jostle him awake immediately, forcing him to stand as they douse him in ice cold water to keep his eyelids from slipping shut. Blue eyes dart around the room, dazed, confused, unsure of what is happening. Fear begins to leak into the blue pools as they become increasingly disoriented.

The men come again. Jack stops talking, starts shouting. He screams at the men to take him instead. That neither of them know what the men want to know.

These are not lies, but the men take them as such.

* * *

Please, he pleads.

The words barely travel through the small cell to Jack's ears. The brunet's eyes shutter, anger clouding them. His voice is gone, stolen away by the words that have fallen from his lips so many times over the past few days.

Jack cannot help his friend.

There is a lull. The men have realized that their captives will not break easily. They are preparing more drastic measures- what that might be, he has no idea- when Jack's lies become truth. There are shouts and screams and, in the background, the rain of gunfire patters on the concrete of the compound.

Jack watches as allies flood the building, as he and his friend are released.

* * *

He does not remember the ride home.

* * *

When he wakes, he is in a hospital bed. A few feet away, the blond is also in a bed covered with white sheets that are stiff with newness. They sit in silence for a few seconds- minutes- hours- who can tell?

Jack breaks the silence. His voice has begun to recover, and he can speak in a tone just above a whisper.

He tells his friend that they are safe, that their allies came for them, that there is nothing to fear. He talks, and his friend's eyes slip closed as he sleeps. Jack talks on, until he falls asleep as well, continuing to reassure his friend of their safety, that they're at home, that nothing will happen.

These are not lies.

* * *

 **Different style of writing than my normal one, but I'm trying to experiment a bit.**


	5. Lies, act II

**Summary: They go to the woods to escape the smothering embrace of the city.**

 **So here's the end of my little writing style experiment. Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Warnings: vague/referenced torture, brief mention of minor character deaths.**

* * *

They go to the woods to escape the smothering embrace of the city, of their homes, of their friends.

The blond and the brunet sit side by side, their feet dangling over the back of the truck. The river stretches before them, the woods surround them, and it is quiet.

Jack glances to the side at his friend. The thatch of blond hair lists to one side, his head coming to a rest on Jack's shoulder.

There is silence, and then-

The blond speaks. He confesses, in a small, ashamed tone, that he has nightmares. That he is terrified of closing his eyes, that he can barely bring himself to lie in a bed, because he is afraid that his captors will set upon him if he does. That they will drag him from the embrace of sleep.

That they will force him to stay awake.

Jack sets an arm around his friend's shoulder and pushes down the fury that rises like bile in his throat. He remembers the time spent in captivity, the screams. The answers that grew weaker, but never less defiant, never less stubborn.

And, most of all, he remembers the lies.

Jack pulls his friend a little tighter. He speaks, his voice steady and strong, a deep baritone, a far cry from how it sounded at the end of their captivity. He tells his friend that there is nothing to be ashamed of. That the nightmares will stop, eventually.

He does not tell the blond that their captors are dead. That they died when they resisted capture. There will be time for that later.

They sit like that, side by side, for a long time. They watch the sun descend from its point in the sky, a fiery yellow bleeding into a softer rose, transitioning into an inky darkness that is dotted with tiny gleams of light.

There is a new moon tonight. Jack thinks that maybe it could symbolize something, if only he could decide what.

* * *

They spend the night in the forest, sleeping on the bed of the pickup truck. Two brothers, side by side beneath the stars.

The invisible moon watches. This scene, the older protecting the younger, has played out beneath its watchful gaze for as long as it can remember, and will continue as long as the silvery puddle stands in the sky.

When the nightmares come, Jack holds his brother tight. He guards against the shadows that leave his friend shaking and terrified and clawing at his throat as he fights against an invisible, there-but-not-quite grip.

Jack soothes the younger. He whispers to him the same comforting words that he said in captivity, the lies that let them both survive until they came true.

* * *

The sun rises, bringing with it warmth and safety as it sends the shadows scurrying from the clearing.

Jack watches the way the blond's hair reflects the sunlight, turning from straw into a moving mass of molten gold. He does not miss the way that the other's ice-blue eyes follow the older's broad frame constantly, as if afraid he will leave.

Jack will not leave.

They sit on the back of the truck again, this time watching the wildlife. A herd of deer emerge from the forest. They graze peacefully, and the two brothers watch, taking in the rare sight.

Jack feels a small, thin body tuck itself against his side. It sidles closer slowly, almost reluctantly, as if ashamed of wanting the comfort of the older man.

Jack pulls him closer, relishing the way the thin body folds itself into Jack.

As they sit, watching the deer, he thinks that maybe the new moon symbolized a new start. A better one.

When they return to the city, his brother asks him to stay with him.

For the first day since they have seen each other after having been released, the blond has not asked Jack to lie to him, has not imagined them back in the grasps of those who held them.

* * *

Jack stays. The nightmares do not.

* * *

 **Be on the lookout for the last chapter of Mysterious Scientists and Substances tomorrow!**


	6. Blackout

**Summary: Missing scene for episode 1x10, "Pliers."**

 **MacGyver is tased during the episode, but the next time we see him, he's in the car with Jack. What happened in between?**

 **Warnings: Canon-typical violence**

 **Creative title, I know.**

 **This is a short fic about the effects of the taser on Mac, since he still seems a bit out of it the next time we see him.**

* * *

The man above MacGyver told him not to contact the police. MacGyver, barely processing his words through a haze of taser-induced pain, could only manage a small groan. The man grinned, his yellowed teeth showing in a mocking smile. "Can't let you chase after us, can I?"

He engaged the taser again, pressing it against MacGyver's neck. The blond let out a strangled, breathy moan, too out of breath to do so much as scream. The man holding Valerie let out a small laugh when he heard MacGyver's pain. Valerie, terrified, let out a small sob at the sight before her. The first man continued holding the taser against the younger man's neck for an extended period of time, much longer than he had the first time.

The young agent felt his grip on consciousness slipping. He fell limp, exhausted, as the man finally removed the taser. However, as the two thugs were walking away, he attempted to rise back to his feet. As long as he was conscious, there was no way he was going to let the men take Valerie without a fight. When the man with the taser saw him, he turned back and kicked MacGyver harshly in the ribs.

The young man yelped, pain turning his vision white for a moment. When he came back to his senses, he found the man with the taser crouching over him. The man bent down and engaged the taser again, whispering, "Remember. No police or she dies."

MacGyver fell into the dark spots that had consumed his vision.

* * *

MacGyver opened his eyes to find Jack tapping his cheek lightly in worry. "Mac. Hey, buddy. You with me?"

The blond let out an inarticulate groan. "'M awake."

Jack sighed briefly, relief coloring his gaze. "Good. You were worrying me."

Angus tried to sit up. As he did so, black spots suddenly swam in his gaze though, and he groaned again, clutching his head. Jack steadied him. "Woah, you okay?"

MacGyver took a minute to regain his vision, then nodded. "Yeah. Um. The- the men. They took her. Valerie."

Jack frowned. "Not good. Okay. We gotta go, see if we can figure out what's going on."

The younger man clutched Jack's arm. "Her dad. We can ask her dad."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, let's start there. You ready?"

Angus took a moment to swallow down the bile rising in his throat at the thought of getting up. He braced himself, then nodded wordlessly. Jack shot him a gaze sharp with worry, then let out a miniscule sigh. "Okay. Let's do it."

Jack pulled MacGyver to his feet, steadying him for a moment when he swayed. "You good?"

MacGyver nodded. "Yeah. Let's go get Valerie."

* * *

 **I loved this episode. Absolutely loved it. There were so many feels, and, ugh, more hints about Mac's dad. I mean, it really sounded like they started growing apart after his mom's death, and then stuff just kept happening to drive them further apart.**

 **Also, Mac moved in with Bozer when they were still in high school? Interesting. I'm wondering what might've happened to Mac's grandpa that he didn't live with him anymore.**

 ***coughs* if anyone wants to write a fic dealing with anything in this episode, I would like to prompt.**

 **Prompt: gen, a bit angsty, the conversation that Mac and Jack must've had on the parts of the car ride that we didn't see. I mean, the drive took an hour and we only saw seven minutes, tops.**

 **Let me know if you write this, or any other tag to this episode!**


	7. Lies, act III

**For Tamuril2.**

* * *

The blond stares at his sleeping friend, his mind a thousand miles away from the peaceful sight.

He remembers a time before Jack, a time where he worked alone. There were missions, sometimes, when he would be captured.

When he would be tortured.

There were nightmares for the blond then, too. There were nights when he would wake screaming, shouting, clawing at his arms as he felt the phantom weight of restraints long removed.

There was no Jack then.

The blond sits for a time, the moon passing by silently, its silver beams playing over the older man's face. He shifts in his sleep, muttering, then falls silent again.

The younger man smiles. He does not need to fear sleep as he once used to.

He has a brother now, and nothing can take him from the man's protecting embrace.


	8. First Meetings

**Summary: We know Jack and MacGyver met in the army overseas- but that's all we know.**

 **Their first escapade together was far from calm.**

 **(Featuring train of thought, Southerness, and an abuse of italics)**

 **Warnings: torture, but nothing too graphic. It's not worse than what is in the show.**

 **This could actually be canon. I mean, as far as I can tell, it fulfills all the requirements for canon. Which was a little odd writing, lol, because I normally don't comply fully with canon.**

 **Just a quick reminder, it's canon that Jack was in Delta Force and MacGyver worked as an EOD.**

* * *

Jack opens his eyes to the sound of laughter and grunts of pain and the sight of a grimy ceiling over his head.

The ceiling's weird, because last he remembers he was outside in the desert, but hey, things happen.

He turns into his side and sees the source of the laughter and grunts of pain, and _oh yeah._

Everything comes back to him. He's been taken hostage by some losers with a grudge against Americans (don't ask him why, everyone over here seems to have a grudge against Americans), and that kid he was with (Mac? Mark? Max? His name was M-something) had apparently been taken as well.

Jack had been watching him disarm bombs, they had been complaining to each other about the heat, and the next thing Jack knew there was a dart sticking out of his neck and he was falling towards the ground and-

-and he woke up here.

 _Right_.

There's a particularly loud yelp of pain, and Jack looks over, and _hey, not cool, y'all,_ the thugs are beating the blond kid up. They've got his hands in manacles that are attached to the roof of the (hut? Cell?) whatever this is, except the manacles are set at a height that's just a little too tall for the kid. His toes (his boots have vanished) are barely scraping the ground, and his shirt's been ripped off, and the losers have all got crowbars that they're using to hit the kid. Not too hard, not hard enough to break something, but definitely hard enough to leave some nasty bruises.

Jack winces in sympathy. Now that he's not, you know, unconscious, he realizes that the kid's repeating something _is that the actual Preamble to the Constitution, oh my gosh it actually is_ in between yelps and grunts of pain. It's driving their captors crazy. They keep asking him stupid questions like they're expecting him to answer, because _yeah the kid's totally going to tell you where the U.S. is going to be camping next, wow, these guys are amateurs the dude probably doesn't even know that information,_ they think he'll answer.

After a moment, Jack hauls himself to his feet (no, he didn't stagger, he just stepped forward menacingly) and leans against the cell bars casually. He makes some snide comment, getting their attention, keeping it away from the kid and _wow he's scrawny the dude can't be more than nineteen, tops._

The captors apparently think that someone from Delta Force is gonna know more than an EOD, which _yeah, fair_ , he probably does.

They decide to use the kid to convince him to talk, though, which _honestly? They're really going to beat up a teenager?_

Apparently, yeah. Because they do, and Jack tries to keep his cool (he succeeds, but it's one of the hardest things he's ever done) like he's been trained.

The thugs get tired, eventually, and decide to lay off the kid for a bit. By this time, he's panting (his thin chest heaves in a way that no kid's should) and bruised and _ouch, that's gotta hurt, man_ because by this time he's been strung up for an hour (that Jack knows of).

They don't cut him loose, though, when they leave with a (vaguely threatening in a cliche-movie-mobster type of way) promise that they'll be back.

Jack leans against the cell bars and listens to the kid wheeze, trying to get air into his strained lungs.

They sit (stand and hang) like that for a while, and they even eventually strike up a conversation.

* * *

("Wish the heat was all we had to deal with," Jack says.

The kid laughs, then lets out a groan almost immediately. "Yeah," he says, his voice strained and cracked and barely audible.

They don't talk anymore after that.)

* * *

The wannabe mobsters come back, this time with two fewer men. The leader is looking smug in a way that makes Jack want to punch his face in, but, to be fair, he's wanted to do that from pretty much the time he woke.

They cut the kid down, letting him collapse on floor and cough in an effort to draw air into his lungs for approximately half a second before they haul him up by the _hair? Isn't that overkill, y'all?_ and force him to his knees just outside Jack's cell.

A large tub is dragged into the room and is filled with buckets of icy water. Jack sees a gleam in the kid's eye that tells him that the younger man is preparing himself for the inevitable.

Jack's glad to see that the blond's brain has kicked in and he's stopped repeating the Preamble in order to focus on drawing air into his lungs.

Then two of the men grab the kid by his arms and shoulders and shove into the tub, and _ouch, that's gotta hurt_ , the flat metal edge is pressed hard enough against the young man's chest to form a bruise. Jack can see it beginning to become visible when they drag him up from the water and let him gasp a few desperate breaths before they force him under again.

The only real breaks the blond gets is when their captors stop every so often to beat him.

When, an hour after the waterboarding started, American soldiers rush the compound, Jack can't feel thankful enough. They get Jack out of his cell quickly and then they get MacGyver, _hah, I knew that was it_ to a medic.

* * *

The next time Jack sees the kid, they're both working on another bomb together, and Jack thinks that the dude's gonna be a bit mad at him because _you were tortured and all I did was watch_ but the kid just makes a joke about bluer skies ahead and Jack finds himself thinking that _hey, I like this guy, maybe we'll work together some more._

* * *

And they do.

* * *

 **Hope y'all enjoyed! Also, if you like Madam Secretary, I posted a MacGyver/Madam Secretary crossover that's gotten positive feedback. Not sure why, but people like it. If you're looking for a laugh, I'd recommend checking it out.**


	9. Anxiety

**Summary: Jack comes, and suddenly, the anxiety is a bit more manageable.**

 **Another anxiety chapter, I know. Apparently writing MacGyver as having anxiety makes me feel better after a bad day of dealing with mine. After all, what's fanfiction for other than making characters suffer through the stuff we deal with, am I right?**

 **Warnings for: Talk of anxiety, as well as anxiety attacks and people being rude about it.**

 **Please note that the way I write MacGyver as having anxiety is based off of my experience with it, and is in no way meant to infer that this how others experience/ deal with it.**

* * *

 _ **1:**_

It's the first time they've gone out together after a mission, whether it be to get food or anything else. It's been a long mission, and MacGyver's tired. So, of course, when he tries to talk to the waiter at the tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe they've decided on, he stumbles a bit over his words. "I'll have- the- the- um, the-"

The blond trails off, feeling frustrated and embarrassed as he tries to collect his thoughts. He knows exactly what he wants, had even discussed it with Jack before the waiter had come. He knows how his mouth needs to move to form the words, but he can't seem to force his tongue to pronounce the obstinate letters. He closes his eyes, trying not to show how embarrassed he is, and hopes Jack will order to give the younger man more time.

The older agent has apparently developed the power to read minds, because he does in fact order. By this time, Mac's played the words out over and over in his head, making sure he will be able to say them without stumbling over his words this time.

When the waiter turns back to him, MacGyver tries to ignore the burning in his cheeks and is able to blurt out his order clumsily. When the waiter leaves, he turns back to the older man, sneaking a look at his companion, then ducking his head and turning his gaze to the tablecloth. He mutters, in a tone that is barely audible over the hum of the restaurant, "Um. Thanks, for, uh-. Um. What you- what you did back there."

Jack shrugs, his gaze back on the menu. "No problem. One of my sisters gets like that sometimes, and over the years I've learned a lot of tricks."

Jack shrugs it off like it's no big deal, and MacGyver allows himself to think that maybe the older man'll just forget the incident.

* * *

 _ **2:**_

They're at a meeting for a mission the next time it happens. It's a joint operation with the CIA, and MacGyver's very aware of the fact that not only had Thornton drawn the two partners aside and told them to make a good impression on the older agency, but also that they would be working with some of Jack's old acquaintances from the CIA.

The man had expressed a desire to show his old friends (? The blond wasn't quite sure what they were) that even though Jack had moved to a different agency, he was no less competent than before.

So, when it comes time for any suggestions for the mission to be announced, MacGyver's hands are shaking. He tries to hide them as he stands, feeling his gut begin to churn as all eyes in the room turn to him. The young man begins to say his piece (a simple suggestion that the drop place for the package that they're retrieving with an inside man be moved), and stumbles.

He sucks in a breath, trying to play it off as a simple _Oh no, I got too excited, silly me_ , but when he stutters again, trying to regain his place in his sentence, he notices the smiles a few of the CIA agents send each other.

They're not kind smiles.

He stops, drops his eyes to the table for a second, before forcing himself to pull his gaze up and try again.

By this time, the smiles have turned into whispering, which makes Mac even more flustered. He's almost about to give up any semblance of pride and just write down his suggestion when the sound of a throat being cleared cuts through the room. The whispering stops instantly, a few agents giving eachother guilty looks.

Jack hits his chest a couple time with a fist, looking mildly surprised in a way that tells MacGyver that he isn't surprised at all. "Must be coming down with something," the older man says. He looks at MacGyver and nods, saying encouragingly, "You were saying?"

MacGyver knows that there's a flush creeping up his neck, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Jack's face and manages to get his words out this time. Thornton acknowledges the suggestion, and, after a brief discussion with some of the agents, the drop location is changed.

If, at the end of the meeting, Thornton holds him back for a minute to further discuss his role in the mission, he doesn't suspect anything. He is a bit surprised, however, that he doesn't get any flack from the CIA agents about his stumble in the briefing room. In fact, the agents barely make small talk with him or Jack the entire mission.

They also avoid looking at Jack, and whenever they talk to MacGyver, they dart glances in the older man's direction, no matter where he is.

This fact makes the blond feel a little warm inside.

* * *

 _ **3-?:**_

They slip into an easy rhythm. Neither talks about it much, but Jack makes it very clear that he's willing to lend an ear if MacGyver ever needs someone to just vent to on occasion.

The younger man takes the older up on his offer sometimes, and he won't deny that it makes him feel infinitely better.

If he's in a situation where it's possible, he'll position himself near Jack whenever he feels an anxiety attack coming. It isn't all the time, far from it, but there are times when he can barely speak, trapped in the cage of his own thoughts swirling about him. Jack seems to have an uncanny sense of when this is happening, and will appear by his side as soon as he can.

An arm slung over his shoulder, casual to the outsider, but a warm spot anchoring him to reality, does wonders.

One time, after a particularly bad attack, MacGyver asks Jack how he always seems to know when his friend needs him the most. Jack smiles, and replies simply, "I spent so long knowing when one of my younger siblings was struggling, it's easy to get into the rhythm of doing it again."

The blond smiles.

* * *

 **This chapter is dedicated to my best friend, who has helped me through some very hard times with my anxiety, and continues to provide infinite support for me. I cannot express my gratitude to her enough.**


	10. The Wind Brings Sounds of Laughter

**Summary:** **Small snippet of a story, with no background context. Literally just self-indulgent fluff.**

 **I was _going_ to call this "The Winds of Change," but came to my senses. I'm finding myself increasingly happy that I have a backlog of stuff already written and just in need of a bit of editing before posting.**

 **I've been writing in the present tense a lot lately?**

 **Does anybody prefer it to the past tense or?**

* * *

Jack and MacGyver make their way across the plain, following the man in front. They're walking back to the extraction point from a mission, and they're relieved to be heading home. Jack glances back every so often to ensure that his companion is still behind him. The twenty-year-old is slight, and the winds blowing over the flat plain arere strong.

After a moment, Jack realizes that the winds were picking up even more. He turns just in time to see his friend sent staggering several steps to the side, and has to stifle a chuckle at the sight. The blond's wearing a resigned expression, his mouth set in a firm line as he struggles back on track. Jack begins to walk back towards the younger man, calling over his shoulder loudly to the third agent that was assigned to the mission with them, "Hey, Artie, hold up a second!"

Artie Edwards, a huge African American man that's even broader and more muscular than Jack, stops in his tracks. He watches in amusement as Jack grabs his friend's collar and helps him make his way to where Edwards is standing.

When the two come to a stop beside Edwards, Jack says over the wind, "It's picking up. How far are we from the cabin?"

Edwards glances at the map he holds firmly in his hands. "A mile or so."

Jack grins. "We can make that. Just gotta make sure Mac here doesn't get blown away before then."

MacGyver scowls up at his two fellow agents. He opens his mouth to retort when a particularly fierce gust of wind hits him just right to blow the younger man into Jack's chest.

The kid pushes away from the broad chest, embarrassment turning his skin strawberry red. He ignores the rumble of laughter he had felt building in Jack's chest, saying instead, "Whatever. Let's just get going."

Artie shrugs, hiding a smile of his own as he turns away. "Sure thing."

He leads the way again, and Jack goes last this time, making sure that the youngest of their group is in arm's reach. He might've been joking about the kid being blown away at first, but it's rapidly becoming a real concern.

At least there isn't a storm nearby, or they might've had to worry about tornados.

* * *

The group's sighted the cabin and are about half a mile away when it happens. A huge gust of wind, strong enough to send even Edwards staggering a bit, literally knocks MacGyver over.

He ends up flat on his back, strands of blond hair being tugged by the wind. Jack makes his way over to the kid, followed closely by Artie. The larger agent tugs the smaller man up, set him on his feet, and then proceeds to sling an arm around him.

MacGyver squawks in indignation, preparing to protest before he's cut off by Jack, who slides into the blond's other side, blocking him a bit from the wind there too. "Don't even think about it, buddy. You were _literally_ blown away."

MacGyver shuts up with an embarrassed expression plastered on his face.

The three make their way to the cabin without any more mishaps, but it's a close call. When they enter the house, it's creaking in a way that makes all of them nervous, so they go to the cellar that's been installed in the house for purposes such as tornadoes and windstorms.

They sit in the cellar for hours, making small talk as they wait for the wind storm to blow over.

Eventually, Jack looks up from the card game he and Artie are playing. The youngest of their group had found a puzzle and had been working on it, and Jack searches for him. When he sees MacGyver, a small lump of blue blanket with a shock of blond hair peeking over the top, on the couch, he lets out a small chuckle. Artie follows the other man's gaze, and lets out a rumble of amusement, the warm sound coming from deep in his chest.

The three spend the night in the cellar, letting the windstorm blow over. It's quiet, and warm, and filled with a sense of camaraderie.

* * *

When MacGyver wakes in the night, he sees his friends stretched out on the floor with bedding they had found in the closet. He smiles, and closes his eyes again.


	11. Music fic Ft My Pandora Account

**Here's the drill: I put my Pandora account on, and then write a drabble inspired by the song. When the song stops, there stops the drabble. The only editing I've done is fixing typos.**

 **(Except for #5. I couldn't resist finishing it.)**

* * *

 **1. _Smoke_** **_and Fire_ , ** **by Sabrina Carpenter. (3:44)**

MacGyver stares at the building before him, the flames licking up the sides of the brick. He hears a voice calling (screaming) from the background.

It's Jack.

The blond hesitates a long moment, and then-

He runs into the building. All he can think of is that Nikki is in the middle of the old warehouse. The young agent fights his way through the flames, his shirt pulled over his mouth and nose in an attempt to protect his lungs. The heat presses around him, smothering him.

He sees her, bent over a computer. She's typing furiously. "Nikki," he screams. "We need to leave!"

The woman looks up at him. "I've almost got it!"

She waits another second, then grabs the drive from the computer. MacGyver grabs her hand, and they turn to rush out of the building.

* * *

 **2. _Rat A Tat_ , by Fall Out Boy. (4:01)**

A punch comes out of nowhere. Jack ducks it. He swings back, a flare of satisfaction goes through him as the hit connects. There's another man coming out of nowhere, Jack's becoming overwhelmed, there's no time to call for help with his radio-

Darkness surrounds him. He'd think that he's unconscious, if not for the fact that he knows he's moving.

Also, there's a blond head lying a few feet away, just out of his reach. The lump of clothes that are attached to the head begin to stir, and Jack watches in relief as his partner sits up, bound hands reaching awkwardly for his head. "Ouch," MacGyver says.

Jack smiles widely in relief. "I think that's one of your most blatant under reactions."

* * *

 **3. _I Bet My Life_ , by Imagine Dragons. (3:12)**

Jack sends a smile at the woman before him. She's frail and old, and sitting in her living room looking disapproving as ever. Jack clears his throat, elbowing the blond beside him. "Grandma," he says, "This is my friend, MacGyver."

Mac awkwardly extends a hand towards the elderly woman, clearly unsure of himself. Jack smiles mentally to himself. Put the kid in front of a bomb and he'd be fine, but social interaction with those he was unfamiliar with and he was stumped.

Jack's grandmother sniffed as she eyes Mac's hand. "MacGyver what?"

Jack looked, confused, at the woman. "Sorry?"

Mrs. Dalton sniffed again, the disdain evident in the sound. "Well, I don't' think-"

* * *

 **4. _I Just Wanna Run_ , by The Downtown Fiction. (3:19)**

His feet pound against the ground.

 _Thump_.

He can hear footsteps behind him, urgent and demanding and-

 _Thump_.

His heart beats wildly against his ribs. MacGyver pushes himself even harder, not giving into the screaming need for air that begins to claw at his lungs.

 _Thump_.

A stitch begins to work its way into his side. He is breathing harshly now, and the footsteps behind him have not stopped.

 _Thump_.

A shot hits the tree beside him. The blond moves wildly to the side, trying to vary his pattern of strides to throw his pursuer off. Suddenly-

Impact. There's a sudden pain in his chest, and MacGyver stops- but only because he trips. The young man tumbles forward onto the-

* * *

 **5. _Monster_ , by Skillet. (2:57)**

High speed chases, shootouts, hacking through firewalls, everything. Are these the things that define her? Are they all she is?

Somehow, she thinks not. She was meant for greater things. For a higher purpose, as cliche as that sounds.

So. When they approach her, offering what seems like a reasonable- noble, even- purpose, she says yes. She's even getting paid for it, which is a bonus.

She keeps it a secret for as long as possible. They've come up with the perfect exit plan, they'll pretend to shoot her.

But then, MacGyver's shot too. And for him, it's real.

She stares at her hands, willing the blood that stains them to disappear. For once, she doesn't feel called to a higher purpose, or noble.

She feels like a monster.

* * *

 **I wanted to write, but nothing sounded good. So, this. *runs away***


	12. Dark AU

**Major characters' death. You have been warned.**

* * *

 **The First Act** :

There's another mission, and Bozer watches them go off on it without regrets. He's thrilled with his new job, with the feeling of adrenaline that comes with being a secret agent.

He's in the lab when the bomb goes off. He dies instantly, as do four other scientists.

MacGyver and Jack and Riley come back two weeks later to a solemn faced Thornton telling them that the funeral's been held in their absence. When she's met with disbelieving stares (Jack), furious shouting (Riley), and a cold, quiet anger (MacGyver), she tells them that the mission was too important to interrupt.

(Riley throws the flash drive they retrieved at her.

None of them go to the debrief.)

* * *

 **The Second Act** :

Riley doesn't show up for a mission briefing and she doesn't answer her phone. Jack and MacGyver try to find her, suspecting foul play, kidnapping, something. Anything.

There's nothing but a note on her kitchen table telling them that she's got nothing tying her down anymore.

It doesn't say if she'll ever see them again.

(They both know that they won't.

They get Thornton to agree to give her immunity, but it's a close-run thing.)

* * *

 **The Third Act** :

Jack and MacGyver have been brought back to how they were in the old days- a pair of agents that can go anywhere, do anything.

There's something different, though.

They fight more often- and it's not playful fighting. There's times when they start shouting at each other, and it's nearly come to blows more than once.

They fight, and the space that was thrust between them with Bozer's death and fed by Riley's leaving grows.

They fight, they make up, they fight again.

The fighting gets so bad that Thornton assigns them each new partners.

They act like they don't care.

(They do.

They look at each other when they pass in hallways, and don't acknowledge the other.)

* * *

 **Intermission** :

Nikki's been sighted. Jack and MacGyver are assigned to each other to work a final mission together.

There's a tenseness in the room that's nearly suffocating, a roaring, deadly fire that stems from a single match.

Nikki is found. She's killed when she's captured, by people that she used to work for until she wasn't of any use to them.

MacGyver doesn't go to her funeral. Jack does.

Jack comes to MacGyver's house. They talk for the first time in ages without fighting. There's a reconciliation, even.

Jack looks at MacGyver and thinks, _how did we come to this?_

They sit by the fire pit for a long, long time. Jack watches as MacGyver pulls into himself and becomes a shell of who he once was.

(Jack isn't any better.)

* * *

 **The Final Act** :

They go on missions together again.

There's a bomb, and this time, no one but Jack and MacGyver to disarm it.

Jack throws Angus one quick grin, white teeth flashing in the near darkness, and Angus smiles back.

Their smiles are fierce and sharp and their eyes are full of the bravery that comes with the knowledge that they've got nothing to lose.

Jack fights, MacGyver disarms the bomb- they seem to have won.

They're walking out of the building when a sniper takes them both out.

They die within a second of each other.

No one comes to their funerals. The life of a secret agent is not one for friends.

(There wasn't anyone to come.)

* * *

 **And the First Act Begins Again** :

Patricia Thornton receives a call. There's a confirmation of kills made. She tells the man where to find the money.

She smiles. She is one step closer to her goal. To her dreams of power.

(Patricia Thornton resumes a mask of polite but disinterested grief.

She returns to her office, and welcomes two young women to the agency. They're clearly friends.)

* * *

 **The Curtain Falls:**

Two pawns have served their uses. Two more have arrived to take their places.

(Thornton smiles, sometimes, when she remembers the bomb. It had been some of her finest work.)


	13. of masks and molds

**...hi?**

* * *

"Hey, this looks nice-"

"Don't touch it!"

"Geez, dude, I'm just looking. Why're you so touchy?"

"Bozer told me if anything happened to those masks he was going to remake them. Twice as many of them."

"So...?"

"They make the house stink to high heaven. I hate the smell."

"Oh."

"Jack, that sounded like a bad 'oh.' What did you do?"

"..."

"Jack!"

"I didn't mean to knock it over!"

"Ugh."

"Hey Jack, what's- My masks!"

"Bozer, I just want to say, with all sincerity, that this was absolutely all Jack's fault. In fact, it was so much his fault that you should probably make the new masks at his house to show him how much hard work you put into them."

"Dude!"

"You know what, Mac? I think he won't appreciate it either way."

"Yeah, man, you're probably right. I just don't know the value of these things."

"Well, I'm going to go get started. _Again_."

"Jack, you have to let me stay at your house while he does this. It's your fault that he's redoing them."

"Only if you agree to watch Die Hard with me."

"...You drive a hard bargain. Fine."


	14. first meetings-alternate

**Sorry I've been a bit absent lately, guys. I am still here, but, as some of you may know, I struggle with anxiety. It is manageable for the most part, but sometimes it becomes almost overwhelming and I struggle to find motivation to write.**

 **There's been a few things in my life lately that have exacerbated my anxiety, and I appreciate y'all's patience with me as my output suffers. Thanks also to the people who sent me prompts and have been very, _very_ patient as I slowly fill them.**

* * *

Jack was surprised the first time he met MacGyver. They were in a war, and here was this kid that looked barely old enough to enlist.

When it came down to it, though, the kid was one of the only men that Jack trusted, in the long run. After a disastrous mission ending in betrayal by almost all of Jack's CIA team and leaving Jack and MacGyver stranded in the desert- they were barely rescued in time- Jack decided that he'd rather work with the kid than anyone else.

After years working together, Jack had never looked back.

* * *

 **My first real drabble. What do you think?**


	15. headcanons-music

**Patricia**

She likes to listen to classical, especially pieces with invigorating music. It makes her feel powerful and in control.

-one time she went to a bar with Jack back when it was just him working for the DXS

-she got really drunk (she was getting over the death of her fiancee)

-there was karaoke available and Jack got her to sing _Paradise City_ by Guns 'n Roses

-she surprised literally everyone there with her amazing voice

-she denies it ever happened even to this day

* * *

 **Riley**

She likes to listen to classic rock. Something about it- maybe the way it's been around so long and is just a constant thing in the world- makes her feel at peace.

-one time Bozer demanded that she let him listen

-she did

-he fell in love with it

-for a week that's all he would listen to

-then he got distracted by another genre

-meanwhile Riley just laughed

-she still lets him listen whenever he wants though

* * *

 **Bozer**

Bozer listens to anything and everything. He likes variety, and always wants to try something new, which is reflected in his music.

-whenever he hears a good song on the radio he immediately googles the lyrics and finds the name of the song

-then he'll get distracted by some other song with similar lyrics that popped up

-one time he discovered an obscure genre with three songs in it this way

-sometimes he goes on YouTube and finds random playlists and listens to them

-has around a hundred songs on his phone at a time

* * *

 **Jack**

Jack, though he will deny it to his dying day, likes to listen to pop music. Something about the almost-always upbeat lyrics makes him smile, and sometimes he needs to smile.

-always pretends to be cranky when pop music come son

-denies the fact that he knows more modern lyrics than anyone else in their little group

-listens to a lot pop when he works out

-his favorite song so far is _What's Wrong With Being Confident?_ by Rihanna

-listens to country whenever someone else is in the car with him

-loves country almost as much as pop

* * *

 **MacGyver**

Even though he won't admit it, Mac really likes to listen to rock. The music both makes his blood race and calms him at the same time.

-likes the loud, powerful music because he's always been seen as a bit of a goody-two-shoes (even though anyone who's gotten to know him knows that that's the complete opposite of the truth)

-it still gives him a thrill of rebellion to listen to rock

-he likes to break stereotypes

-also

-he started listening to music when he was like eleven years old

-he wouldn't listen to anything but jazz because that's the only thing that interested him

-but he started getting into rock when he heard a rock band on the radio one day

-then he decided that he liked the wild, pounding music better

-he's never gone back


	16. Colds and Curtains

**Even secret agents get sick sometimes.**

 **Another dialogue only chapter. These are quick and fun :).**

* * *

"Mac, what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm making a rope so I can escape."

"Escape from- don't tear that curtain up! Give it to me. Good. Escape from where?"

"Here."

"Why?"

"You can't stop me from going in to work, Jack. I've faced worse than ten foot grizzly bears."

"Are you telling me that I'm a grizzly bear?"

"...Maybe?"

"Yeah, that's it. Come here."

"Wh't's th't s'nd?"

"That's the thermometer, buddy. It's telling me that you've got a temperature of 102.5."

"Jack?"

"Hold on, let me google something really quick- oh my- Mac, if your fever goes up another half degree, I'm taking you to the hospital. I think I can keep you home from work."

"Jack, if you're not the grizzly, who is?"

"It's okay, kid. The grizzly's gone. Don't worry."

"'M tired."

"Yeah, lie down. I'll be right here if you need anything, okay?"

"'Kay."

* * *

"Jack."

"How you feeling?"

"Tired. But not too feverish anymore."

"Hold on. Yeah, your temperature's down to 99.6. You're on the mend."

"Jack, was there a bear in here? That's almost all I remember."

"..."

"Jack, why are you laughing? Jack! Ugh, whatever. I'm going back to sleep."

* * *

 **I've FINALLY got the rough draft of my next story finished- and it's just over 5200 words. I'm excited.**


	17. years spiralling by

**i really liked writing this? idk why i just did**

* * *

When little Angus MacGyver is six years old, his mother dies. He doesn't realize what it means at first, but one day he asks his father when she's coming back and the man stares at him and pushes back from the table with a noisy clatter and leaves Angus' grandfather to explain that his daughter- Angus' mother- isn't ever coming back.

(The tears come that night, and that's the first time he truly knows what sadness feels like.)

* * *

When Angus MacGyver is exactly eleven (he's not little anymore, he outgrew that the day he realized his mother was gone), his father leaves without a word. Angus wakes up one morning and his grandfather's sitting at the kitchen table with the same look on his face as five years ago, when he had to tell his grandson that he was halfway to becoming an orphan.

(Angus is sad again that night, and, for the first time, experiences that particular brand of terror that takes away your breath and steals your peace.)

* * *

When Angus is twelve, he starts middle school, and within a week, he's ceased to become Angus and instead insists on being called MacGyver.

(He's got enough bullying to worry about without his name being another point of contention. No one likes the shy, somewhat nerdy kid that started school just a bit late but could easily be two grades ahead of where he is now.)

* * *

When MacGyver is twelve-and-three-quarters, a thirteen year old named Wilt Bozer punches Donny in the nose because he won't stop picking on MacGyver. Mac stares up at the boy with admiration in his eyes, and Bozer offers him an easy grin and a hand up.

(They become fast friends. This lasts, even when Mac skips two grades and Bozer doesn't.)

* * *

When MacGyver is fifteen, he starts his senior year of high school. His grandfather is weak, ailing, and MacGyver looks at colleges and wonders what scholarships he can get. They use the small amount of money that was put aside for his college education to cover his grandfather's medical bills, and they both celebrate when, three months into Mac's senior year, MIT offers him a full ride.

(When Mac is fifteen-and-a-half, his grandfather is committed to a hospital. He promises Mac that he'll watch him graduate high school.)

* * *

When Mac is sixteen, he graduates high school, becomes an emancipated adult, and thanks his grandfather for everything he's done. When his father comes back into town and asks for money, Mac's grandfather finds the strength to tell him to leave his daughter's son alone.

(When Mac is sixteen-and-a-quarter, his grandfather dies. He curls up in the back of his closet and folds himself in as small as possible and doesn't think about the way he can't breathe right. He fists his hands into tiny balls and takes comfort in the way the pricks of pain where his nails bite into his skin keep him grounded in reality.)

* * *

When Mac is eighteen, he graduates from college and enlists in the military. When he's eighteen-and-four-fifths, he completes the training required and is sent to a desert so dry he finds himself longing for the lakes of his childhood home.

(When he's assigned to work with a man by the name of Alfred Pena, Mac realizes three weeks in that this man is becoming a father figure to him, a realization that is firmly cemented when Pena talks him out of the panic attack that this realization brings.)

* * *

When Mac is twenty, he watches a building explode and feels a familiar hollow in his chest grow even larger. He's discharged from the army honorably, and is immediately offered a job by an agency by the name of DXS.

(When he takes the job, he's assigned to another newbie by the name of Jack Dalton, a former CIA agent. They get off to a rough start.)

* * *

When Mac is one week away from being twenty-one, Jack punches someone for him. They'd been walking through the halls and someone had made a rude comment about Mac's age, and Mac had ducked his head, hunched his shoulders, and walked on. Jack hadn't.

(Mac was used to letting insults and taunts and rude comments roll off his back. When Hack shakes out his hand and slings an arm over the younger man's shoulders like it's no big deal, Mac stares up at him with wide eyes and an expression that only one other person has ever seen, and knows that this is someone that won't abandon him.

There's been very few people he can say that about.)

* * *

When Mac is twenty-three, he watches the woman he loves get shot and feels the pain that comes with the bullet that tears into him and decides that it hurts less than the broken heart.

(When Mac is twenty-three, he finds out that the woman he loves loved betrayed him.

Jack finds him curled up in his closet, folded in as tight as he can, fists clenched as he ignores the way he can't breathe right.

Jack sits beside him and is a large, comforting, warm presence that grounds him in reality.)

* * *

When Mac is two months away from being twenty-four, he watches a woman his age join their team and replace Nikki.

(He thinks that he might resent her, at first, but Riley fills a spot in their team that Nikki never had. She fits in, with her sarcasm and withering comments and bravery and cleverness.)

* * *

When Mac is twenty-four, his father returns and tries to ask him for money, and, when Mac wants an explanation- for the money, for leaving, for everything- the man tells him that Mac's a disappointment, a failure, the reason he left-

(Jack punches the man and Riley uses her sarcasm and computer skills to threaten him, and Mac looks at his friends and thinks that he's found a home.

The sadness that's rested in his chest since he was six years old begins to lift.)


	18. i'll stay (as long as i'm allowed)

**A sequel to last chapter, for Tamuril2. Warnings: non-graphic description of a panic attack.**

* * *

Alfred Pena, senior EOD tech, watched from a distance as the newest rookie that had been shoved at him sat under an out-of-the-way tent and quietly freaked out.

Pena knew the signs of a panic attack, had suffered through them a few times himself, which was how he also knew that approaching someone while in the midst of a panic attack could embarrass and alienate them.

 _What to do, what to do?_

Pena reflected over the past few weeks that he had spent with the kid. They had grown close, but was it close enough?

Pena saw the kid violently tremble and pull into himself even further, and made his decision. With the hot sun beating down on his back, the older man took the few quick steps that led him to the blond.

Said blond glanced up as Pena approached, a jerky, uncoordinated movement that drew Pena's attention to his eyes, blown wide by panic.

Sighing softly to himself, the brunet sank down on his heels and slowly placed a gentle hand on Mac's arm. "Hey, Mac, what's the matter?"

There was a beat of silence, and then, "I- I can't- I can't breathe."

Pena nodded. "I know, I know, okay? Here," the older man gently drew Mac's hand to the brunet's chest and continued. "Just follow my breathing, okay?"

After a few minutes, Alfred was able to calm the teen down. He was about to leave, thinking the problem had been solved, when his sharp eyes caught the way that the kid was flushing up the back of his neck and side-eying Pena.

Groaning softly, the man settled himself onto the ground by Mac. "What's eating you, kid?"

Mac was quiet for a moment, and Pena said levelly, "We both know that I can out-stubborn you any day of the week, so you might as well spit it out now."

The kid's long, thin fingers began to pick at the grass, and, after a few moments, he finally said, "I haven't had much luck in the line of father figures. My dad left when I was twelve, and my grandfather died when I was sixteen, and no one else was really- I don't know, enough, maybe?- for me to look up to them."

He fell silent for a moment, and the brunet let the silence continue, knowing that now was not the time to push. His judgement was rewarded a moment later, when the kid said quietly, "I guess I just don't want to get attached to anyone, because everyone always leaves, even if they don't want to."

And that, that was the thing that clued Pena in on everything. Because, after working with the guy for some time, he had become well versed in MacGyver-speak, and he could hear everything that the kid left out.

The man hadn't planned on becoming a father- or a father-figure- at this age, but he _had_ always wanted kids.

Alfred slung an easy arm around Mac, letting a smile crinkle his face as the kid looked up at him with wide eyes as he said, "Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere, kid. You're stuck with me."

And he meant every word.

* * *

 **buuuuuut we all know how that turned out. rip.**


	19. The Danish Incident

**So we know that Jack and Matty used to be friends, but then something happened. What could it be? Here's my (not serious at all) take on it.**

* * *

Jack stared at the pastry held in his boss' hand. It was beautiful, flaky, delicious-looking- it was the perfect cheese danish.

It was also the last one.

Jack stared accusingly at Matty. "You took it!"

The woman looked up from her breakfast in surprise at the man's outburst. "Took what?"

"The cheese danish! I eat that every day!"

Matty rolled her eyes. "Oh, calm down, Jack. It's a danish, there'll be more tomorrow."

Jack fell silent, narrowing his eyes at his boss.

This meant war.

* * *

The next few weeks were pure chaos. Jack would take Matty's favorite food one day, and the next, there'd be nothing to eat in the entire facility other than that food. Jack retaliated by figuring out how to set the speakers to play country music- and only country music- nonstop for twenty-four hours.

After an elaborate act of revenge by Jack- the mess hall was so full of bubbles that it seemed like it might never be empty of them- Matty called a truce. She asked Jack to meet her on neutral ground, aka the parking lot.

Jack made his way to the designated meeting place warily. He saw Matty wave to him from where she was standing, both in greeting, and in an effort to show that her hands were empty.

Slowly, Jack approached.

Matty cleared her throat as the other agent approached. "I think we need to put a stop to this, Jack."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

Matty sighed. "We're making it hard for everyone to do their work."

Jack scratched his chin, thinking, then said, "This doesn't sound like you, Matty."

The woman scowled. "It's not. The higher-ups contacted me. I'm quoting them, here."

Jack nodded. "I thought that sounded sketchy. There's no way you would admit defeat."

"You're right I wouldn't. So, what do you say? Truce before we lose our jobs?"

"Eh, sure. Just apologize for taking my danish."

"Jack, I'm not gonna apologize for that."

Jack turned away dramatically. "I can't work with someone that I don't trust. Goodbye, Matty. My two-week notice will be in your office tomorrow."

With that, the brunet stalked towards his car, leaving behind a shattered friendship and broken trust.

* * *

 **Sorry for the relative silence, guys. The good news is, I've got a three chapter fic that just needs to be edited before posting, and I'm also like a third of the way through writing the bonus scenes for Of Presidents and Poor Decisions.**


	20. How the Mighty Fall (in love)

**Story and story title inspired by FOB's "How the Mighty Fall."**

 **Story is a canon-compliant story about Jack and Sarah**

* * *

Their romance was quick and powerful, like them. It seemed to end as fast as it started, but. Something remained.

(And at the end, oh, at the end, it was so much more than stolen kisses and tender looks. It was a long, slowly-burning love that lasted years.)

They met on a mission, both of them lone wolves, more accustomed to working alone than with a partner.

(She stared him down the day they met. He glared back, and said, "Look, darlin', I'm not used to working with a partner, so let's get this through with as quickly as possible."

"Don't call me darling," she coldly replied, "And you've got yourself an agreement.")

Their mission was supposed to be a milk run- something so easy any newbie could do it. A break, of sorts.

It was anything but.

(She looked at him through the bars that separated their cells. She was leaning against the bars as she said, "You're not as bad as I thought you would be."

"Yeah?" His head tilted to face her from his position on the floor, blood dripping slowly from a bad cut on his temple. "I could say the same about you.")

It made sense, a week later, to stay as close as possible. Because things got so, so much worse than they already were.

("Your wrist is gonna be permanently messed up if you don't get some kind of help soon," she worriedly said as she stared at the broken bone.

A sheen of sweat stood out across his head as he said, "I know. Just. Just stay by me?"

Silently, she reached through the bars and grabbed his good hand.)

When they were rescued, she stayed through the surgery. When he woke up, she was by his bedside.

"Maybe," he said slowly, his mind still a bit dazed from the drugs, "We can work together again."

"I'd like that," she said.

Then they kissed. And that, that was the beginning of a wonderful, happy romance.

(And at the end, oh, at the end, it was so much more than stolen kisses and tender looks. It was a long, slowly-burning love that lasted years.)

And then it ended.


	21. Anger Headcanons

**yo i have a tag to the "Hook" ep that i just need to edit and then it'll be up so here's hoping i can get that done this weekend**

* * *

 **Jack**

\- Jack has a very quick temper, which comes as a surprise to no one

-if you try and insult him or anyone he cares about, he will come after you

\- quite a few thugs discovered this after they insulted Mac one too many times

\- one time they were on a mission and Mac was beaten by their captors

\- Jack was mad of course

\- then the head bad guy started to make fun of Mac

\- Jack got out of the grips of two guys that were each twice as large as he is and fought of three more of the same type

\- to this day no one's been able to figure how he did it because it shouldn't be possible

\- Jack knows though

\- he also knows he'd do it again in a heartbeat for anyone he cares about

* * *

 **Mac**

\- Mac's got a very quick temper

\- but only when it comes to people that aren't him

\- he was bullied a lot as a kid so he's always had a particular dislike for bullies

\- but if people try and insult him, he just ignores it

\- one time someone he knew from college met him randomly in a store parking lot

\- Mac tried to walk away but the guy kept insulting him

\- Jack was there too

\- Mac slowly got more and more red out of embarrassment

\- Jack punched the guy and told him to shut up

\- the guy shut up

\- the next day Mac faced up to someone twice his size because they were bullying one of their coworkers

\- Jack was left shaking his head and wondering why Mac couldn't do that when people were coming after him

* * *

 **Patty**

\- Patty's got almost no temper at all

\- she just has anger

\- if you cross her you will get the full force of her fury and no one who's ever gotten that is around the Phoenix Foundation anymore

\- and that's just the good guys that crossed her

\- the bad guys

\- well

\- they're not around anymore

\- if you cross her, you'd have better chances with a blizzard

\- because the blizzard isn't as terrifying and cold as her anger

* * *

 **Matty**

\- Matty has a pretty slow temper

\- but when you rouse it

\- oh, when you get her mad

\- you've made a grave mistake

\- she'll be sarcastic and biting and she'll go after your weaknesses spewing vitriol and hate

\- you'll leave in tears and wondering if your entire life was a failure

* * *

 **Riley**

\- Riley's got a pretty normal temper

\- she reacts pretty normally and has learned to roll with a lot of stuff

\- if people make a rude comment that isn't blatantly rude she'll assume that it wasn't meant in a mean way

\- growing up, her mom taught her to always see the good in people

\- but also how to recognize when someone is Bad News

\- Riley reacts more when she's threatened

\- when she's threatened she can fight with the best of them

* * *

 **Bozer**

\- Bozer tends to take things the worst way every time

\- growing up he watched Mac get bullied a lot

\- and the bullies that only went after him with words would always go after Mac in ways that could maybe be seen as something else

\- that way they could say that it was a misunderstanding if a teacher ever caught them

\- Bozer is ready to fight people that go after the people he cares about 100% of the time

\- and if someone makes fun of him

\- well

\- he's got a good right hook

\- and that right hook isn't just reserved for the people that go after his friends


	22. Beware

**Just about the only thing in here that's not vague is the angst- and even that's kind of vague. I liked writing this, though, because it felt a bit like poetry, and that's something I don't do much of. I hope y'all like it**

 **Warnings: general vagueness, vaguely implied tragedy, vaguely implied violence, vague might not look like a word once you're finished reading this A/N.**

* * *

What color was the sky?, they asked, and he replied, "It was a stone dropping in a still pond, it was chaos drowning the peace. It was a storm from the east, it was anger overtaking the rest."

What were the sounds that filled the air?, they asked, and he replied, "They were the angry buzzing of hornets that bring fear, they were the the clatter of hailstones on a roof caving in. They were the pounding of a terrified heart, they were the roar of a lion."

What was it?, they asked, and he replied, "It was the anger of a dragon, it was the pain of loss. It was the harbinger of death, it was the fury of all."

Why?, they asked, and he replied, "Because of the foolishness of men, because of the bravery of youth. Because of the bond of brotherhood, because of the harshness of loss."

Who brought it?, they asked, and he replied, "It was a soldier with a wound, it was a man with a mission. It was revenge embodied, it was a brother grieving his brother."

Beware, he whispered, beware the the fury of those who grieve.


	23. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Stor

**Title and song lyrics from Lin-Manuel Miranda's musical Hamilton.**

* * *

 _Let me tell you what I wish I'd known_

 _When I was young and dreamed of glory_

* * *

Patty stared at her hands as she sat in her cell. Jack had come to see her, leaving only a half an hour before. He had asked her, his eyes accusing and his voice furious, why she had chosen to do this, to betray her country, her organization, her friends.

She didn't have an answer that would satisfy him.

He wouldn't believe her when she told him that she didn't do it, didn't turn her back on their team.

* * *

 _Y_ _ou have no control_

* * *

What a fool she had been, to believe that she'd be able to take care of the possible threat, that she could do it without worrying her team. She should've brought her friends into the loop, told them that there was a high chance that Nikki wasn't what she seemed.

They had seemed so happy, though. Thrilled that their friend was back, that there was an explanation for what she had done. She couldn't bring herself to take that happiness away from them, not when they rarely had happiness in their field.

What a fool she had been.

* * *

 _Who lives_

* * *

And here she was, trapped in a jail cell, while Nikki roamed free, free to wreak havoc- highly controlled havoc, but havoc nevertheless- and to threaten those that Patricia cared for.

Thornton had suspected, before Murdoc had come onto the scene, that Nikki would put out a hit on one or all of her former teammates. Then the assassin had made himself known, and her suspicions had been proven correct.

How was it that this woman, who would betray those who had proven themselves to her time and again, was allowed to roam free while Patricia was locked in here?

* * *

 _Who dies_

* * *

There was no telling who had been hurt in her absence.

In her darkest moments, Patty found her thoughts straying to the fact that she hadn't seen Jack or Mac or Riley or Bozer for some time, and she'd wonder, in an agony of suspense, whether or not they were dead, killed by Nikki or one of her co-conspirators.

Then they'd reappear, there to ask her why she did something, and she'd feel a sledgehammer hit her gut, made out of relief and pent-up emotions, and she'd feel calm for the first time in weeks.

And then they'd leave again, and the cycle would restart.

* * *

 _Who tells your story_

* * *

If Nikki wasn't allowed to plant her seed of doubt, of false lies and accusations, Patty wondered sometimes, would she still be in this cell? Would she still be locked in a tiny room made up of a ceiling light, a toilet, a sink, a small cot, and four cement walls? Mac could get out, but she couldn't, and that stung.

It grated on her that she couldn't escape, escape to tell her agents what had really happened, escape to warn them not to trust Nikki.

* * *

There was a price to pay for glory, there always is.

 _Too late to back away now, though_ , Patricia thinks, and steels herself for everything that is to come. _No place to go but forward._


	24. Until the Day I Die

**prompt from Amy L on FF. They wanted a song fic on "Until the Day I Die," by Story of the Year.**

 **Sorry I've been seemingly absent, guys, but I'm posting this from my phone bc I don't have my computer and have been visiting family. I'll be back home on Saturday (night), though, and I should have the first chapter of a new story up on Sunday, which I'm excited about.**

 **Warnings: brief references to torture, but nothing on-screen and nothing sexual, as always. Also one very slight reference to suicidal idealizations, but it's just a character deciding that they'd never commit suicide.**

 **Hope y'all enjoy this.**

* * *

Jack paused in his construction of the tent and watched his friend as he built a campfire, grinning in triumph as the sticks caught fire.

The two of them were camping, taking a much needed break from their hectic lifestyle.

Things were good, Jack decided.

Mac moved back towards Jack's truck, parked a good twenty feet away, and then began walking back with a cooler of food.

As the blond began to prepare the food, Jack thought about one of their more recent missions, one he hadn't really allowed himself to reflect on before now.

Mac had been held hostage- something that had happened many times before. Jack had been captured as well, which, not quite normal, but it had happened before as well.

This time, though, this time they tortured Mac in front of Jack. Made him listen to every scream of his friend- not that there were many of those- and watch everything they did.

Jack still had the occasional nightmare.

During that time, though, Jack had come to a realization.

The older man might say that he would follow the younger everywhere, but it wasn't until now that he had realized what he himself really meant by that.

Well, perhaps that wasn't quite the right wording. He had known it, in the back of his mind, but this was the first time that he had fully come to terms with it.

As long as Mac worked in the field, so would Jack. It didn't matter how old the man got, he would find a way.

Jack loved his job, but if his partner-friend-brother decided to quit the next day, or even retire completely, then Jack would too.

And if he died-

Jack paused, took a moment, watched the blond's brow furrow in concentration as he cooked their food, watched the way his tongue poked out just the tiniest bit, watched the way the sunlight played over his blond hair, and realized that this- this was what you felt for a younger brother. For family. The feeling, knowing, that you'd do anything for them.

Then he continued.

If he died, well. Jack wouldn't kill himself or endanger himself in the field or anything like that, no. Mac wouldn't want that, to say nothing of Jack's own beliefs.

No, Jack decided, he would never be able to work as well with anyone else. Would never have the same bond with someone else, never feel those bonds of brothership.

The lack of that bond would be what got him out of the field, one way or another. He'd be injured on a mission, no doubt, the way he'd seen hundreds of others be injured because their partner messed up, or there was no way out of a situation.

Jack couldn't count how many times he'd been in a situation like that, and only survived because of his bond with Mac.

Nothing could ever replicate that.

Mac glanced up from his work, a grin lighting up his face as he looked at Jack. "Need help? I'm sure the directions are complicated."

Jack waved him away good-naturedly. "I've been setting up tents since before you were in diapers. Just try not to burn our food too badly, will you?"

Mac ducked his head, laughing, his eyes narrowing just a bit in that way that he had. Jack smiled to himself for a moment before going back to his work.

Yeah, he'd follow that dork anywhere.


	25. We Go Down Together (or not at all)

**Story and title inspired by the lyrics "we go together or we don't go down at all," from the song, "A Love Like War." Suggested by only-some-loser.**

 **I'm pretty sure this is a song about love, but I'm just using the lyrics that relate to Mac and Jack's epic bromance.**

* * *

A sharp knocking at the door, a familiar voice calling out, "Mac, you in here?"

Jack and MacGyver trade glances, their hearts beginning to speed up. They knew this was coming, had waited, as to not raise suspicion. Riley and Bozer had gone a week earlier, claiming that they were on a romantic getaway. Two others knew the truth. Jack and Mac couldn't claim the same reason for leaving.

There's a muffled conversation, and the door is kicked open. The living room is empty, and so is the kitchen, and Nikki barks out orders to her forces. The black-clad forces descend on the house, tearing it apart, as they seek their quarry. Nikki watches on, arms folded, brow furrowed, as she waits.

She will find them.

The two men are crawling into a secret passageway when they're found. A tall, burly soldier grabs Mac's foot and begins to tug him back, doing so easily even though Mac fights for dear life. The blond looks up the passageway at Jack, who's started to come back. He waves him away, his face frantic, trying to make his friend realize that he needs to leave.

Jack gives him a look that clearly says, I'm not leaving you, kid.

Jack's never listened to Mac when the older man gets that look on his face.

As soon as they're back on the ground, they're bound, and then, without provocation, Mac's hit in the face- hard. Then again, and then the stomach. Apparently, the guard wasn't too happy about being kicked in the face as he tried to remove the young man from the passageway.

Jack fights against his bonds, shouting, and he's given a hit too, to make him shut up.

The two of them are brought to the living room, the furniture in shambles around them. Nikki stands in the living room, her arms folded, her stance confident, a proud smirk resting on her face.

Mac raises his head, a black eye prominent, and spits a mouthful of blood at her feet. Beside him, Jack laughs, his grin all sharp edges and promises of violence if his brother is hurt.

Nikki laughs, and backhands the blond.

Jack surges forward, and his captors have to fight to keep a hold on him. They're distracted, just for a moment, and Mac takes his chance, slamming his foot down on his own guard's foot. The man rears back in pain- and there the two go, struggling and fighting with all they've got.

They manage to free themselves, to break the tight grips of their captors. Nikki surges forward, tackling Mac to the ground. They're both on their feet in a moment, fighting, but this is nothing like the playful sparring of old. This is fire fighting fire, sparks flying from their eyes, vicious jabs, both physical and vocal.

Jack's trained, has put years of experience and work into learning how to defend himself and others, and he takes on seven different people.

He wins. People may look at him and see someone struggling to keep up with his companions in terms of brains, but Jack is much, much smarter than he lets on. He can see the outcomes of a situation before they happen, can strategize and plan with the best of them.

There's a reason why he was one of the best choices for director of the Phoenix Foundation.

After he dispatches the last guard, he turns just in time to see Mac get in a lucky hit on Nikki- perhaps she left her side open because she underestimated Mac, perhaps it was a moment of regret for betraying those she loved.

Either way, Mac doesn't hesitate. He hasn't looked back for a moment since he learned that the ultimate plan was to get his team out of the way, one way or another, and then convince him to work with Nikki and her organization.

Nikki's on the ground, gasping for breath, and Jack grabs Mac's arm, pulling him away from the blonde. The two men run out of the house and- regretfully- break into the car of a random neighbor, hotwiring it and punching the gas.

They brought food when we first moved in, Mac thinks, bizarrely, and feels a twinge of guilt. He pushes it aside, knowing that they'd understand.

The car speeds away, and in the precious moments before Nikki makes it outside to look for them, they make it out of sight. They've got an entire system set up, had planned it months ago, and they'll make it safely to the safehouse where Riley and Bozer- and, hopefully, Matty and Thornton are.

The war has begun.

* * *

 **I haven't said this yet, but THANK Y'ALL SO MUCH! This story has reached: 118 reviews and _18 thousand hits. Oh my fricking gosh._ I appreciate all the support I have found in this community, and I think I can genuinely say that this is one of the most welcoming fandoms I've ever been in. So, form the bottom of my heart, thank each and every one of y'all. It makes me so happy to know that people are enjoying my work.**


	26. First Meetings AU

**Warnings for mentions of child soldiers. Written in about twenty minutes.**

* * *

Jack's not sure when he started feeling sorry for one of his guards.

You see, he'd been captured, along with his partner, John Santeer, and was being held captive by the people who's facility they were supposed to infiltrate.

All in all, not the best way things could've turned out.

They've been here for a week, kept in a small bedroom with two twin beds and a tiny bathroom that has one sink, one toilet, and a shower that's just large enough to be functional.

There seems to be a large rotation of guards that guard their room, but only one ever brings them food- they're fed twice a day, and good meals, too. All in all, things could be much, much worse. Jack's not sure what's really going on underneath the surface here.

But. Back to the kid. Because that's all the guard really is, honestly. He's around twenty-one, looks younger, and never quite looks Jack or John in the eye when he's in the room.

Also, he always seems to be sporting some new bruise every few days.

Jack's not a fool. He saw the kid fight when he and John were taken down. It wasn't the flashy, inexperienced moves of someone who'd been crudely trained, or even the quick, efficient moves of someone who's practiced for years.

No, it was the fluid, natural movements of someone who's been doing something almost since birth.

Jack grits his teeth a little harder every time he thinks about that. John reacts the same way when Jack tells him.

Jack's not stupid. He knows child soldiers are a very real thing.

They wait, always on the edge of their seats, wondering if today will be the day that they're tortured, interrogated, killed.

They pass the time by trying to strike up a conversation with the kid- three weeks in, they succeed, and trade words every time they see him- and working out to keep in shape.

Then, two months in, the kid comes into the room with a determined glint in his eye and a huge bruise on his cheekbone. He looks at Jack straight in the eyes and says, "They're going to kill you tomorrow. I can get you out."

The kid takes them through an elaborate setup- he convinces the other guards he's following orders, brings them through the hallways as if they're prisoners, and then- much to Jack's amusement- into an actual secret passageway.

They get out and contact DXS. After a few explanations, a much-appreciated extraction, and two debriefs, the three men are left alone until the director arrived and decides what to do with the kid.

Jack refuses to call him the name he gave: thirteen-oh-one.

Jack clasps the kid's shoulder, trying not to think too hard about the way he flinched away from the contact at first. "Hey, kid, you want a place to stay?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin. John, well used to his partner's habit of taking in strays, throws his hands up in the air and mutters about retiring.


	27. The Kindness of Strangers

**Drabble, but one that hit me and wouldn't let me go. I'm in the middle of writing both the prequel and the sequel for the child soldier AU chapter, which one would y'all like to see first? It might take a couple days, since I'm working on a long, multi-chapter prompt fic right now, but I should be able to get the prequel and/or the sequel done in my spare time.**

 **Set in the pre-Phoenix Foundation days of the DXS. Patty isn't director yet, but will be soon.**

 **Warnings: off-screen, barely mentioned, minor character death; some implied violence.**

* * *

The woman stares through the crack in the door, tall and cold and regal and full of- well. He's not sure what, exactly, she's full of, only that she is. They stand there for a moment, neither moving, until he swallows and repeats his earlier words. "Please, ma'am. It's just six hours."

There's a beat of hesitation, a few seconds where he thinks she's going to turn them away, before she nods once, curtly, and opens the door just wide enough for them to come in.

The blond hoists the taller, larger man up higher on his shoulder, and helps him stumble inside. Once they're there, the older man seems to come back to his senses for a moment, whispering, "Where're we, Mac?"

Keeping his eyes fixed warily on the woman, the younger man- Mac- whispers back, "Laying low until pickup, Jack."

The brunet- Jack- nods, his head drooping to fall against his chest. Mac shifts, trying to keep the majority of the larger man's weight on himself instead of Jack's legs, and asks, "Is there anywhere I can set him down?"

The woman sighs, a put-upon, exasperated huff of air. "Put him on the kitchen floor. I don't want him to stain my couch."

Mac nods, and turns towards the kitchen that he saw through the hallway. With a bit of awkward maneuvering, he makes it into the other room, and gently lowers Jack to sit on the floor, and then, by degrees, to lie on the cool tile.

The woman gets her first good look at the injury decorating Jack's side, a wound that's been hastily bound, but is surprisingly well-bandaged. There's a spot of blood that's steadily growing larger on the cloth that covers the wound, and the woman's seen enough to know that that is a gunshot wound.

She doesn't say anything, just watches the way that the younger man moves slowly, obviously trying to compensate for some injury to his ribs.

* * *

They sit there in silence for a couple hours, until the woman speaks. "I hate you, you know."

The blond is silent, his eyes fixed on his friend. She continues. "My husband used to work for your organization. He told me about you two, right before he died. I even saw you at a Christmas party, once. I think you got arrested.* Not your friend, though. He wasn't at that one."

He winces, just slightly, at that. She pulls in a breath to continue, but she's rambling, she knows she is, and rambling is-

Rambling is a sign of weakness, something she did when she was nervous or didn't know what, exactly to say.

Here, though, here she knows. She knows what words she's going to choose, and so she spits them out, bitterness and hate and vitriol dripping from her words. "I hate what you do, and I hate who you are, and that means I hate you. All of you, running around and thinking you're saving the world, but all you're really doing is bringing grief and heartbreak and _can't someone else do it-_ "

She stops, twisting her mouth closed, because it would not do to show weakness in front of this person that she barely knows.

He speaks, finally. "I'm sorry for your loss."

It's not adequate, they both know it, but then again, her words weren't fair.

She doesn't think about that. There's a tinge of hollowness to her tone as she says, "Yeah, I bet you are."

* * *

Their rescue- exfil, extraction, whatever- arrives early, only an hour after they talk. The two men are helped away by soldiers, and a tall man, just as intimidating and fierce as the owner of the house, approaches her and quietly thanks her for what she's done for his agents. The woman shrugs, and says that she just wants to be left alone.

The man nods. He turns and leaves with his agents, with the men she helped save, with every remnant of the people that took her husband's life.

She turns, walks back into her house, mops up the stain of blood where Jack had lain, and throws out the blood-stained rags.

* * *

Today she's going to make banana bread. She pulls out her recipe book, flips to the page, and begins to cook.

* * *

 ***a reference to my story, _'Tis the Season,_ which can be found on my author page.**


	28. Put On Your War Paint (I'm Not Afraid)

**Songs for this chapter are "Phoenix," by Fall Out Boy, and "In the End," by Black Veil Brides. This is a sequel to "We Go Together," chapter 25 of this story.**

 **This was SUPPOSED to be a short, 500 word thing, but it turned into this 1400 word story with plot. What even.**

 **Huge thanks to only-some-loser for helping me come up with the songs for this chapter. Couldn't have done it without you, hun.**

 **Warnings: Nikki, pretty strong violence warning in this one.**

* * *

Nikki finds them, of course she does. She has spies everywhere, can get to almost anyone, and, really the surprise is that she didn't find someone that was willing to betray them earlier.

They're dragged, spitting and fighting and eyes flashing fire and full of the bravery that comes when one's life is at stake and the choice is to be either brave or terrified- and the only choice that they even consider is to be brave. As they're brought out, the man that betrayed them watches, his eyes uncertain, a paper containing the number of a bank account that now belongs to him clutched in his hand.

Nikki waves a hand at him, all lazy grace and languid movements that hold a hidden edge, a carefully hidden anger. His eyes flicker to the captives one more time, and he remembers all the times that he's saved someone, seen that grateful light in their eyes, that warm pride that fills his chest after he's sacrificed his comfort, his safety to help someone else.

Nikki's eyes harden, and she raises and eyebrow. "Problem?"

He shakes his head. "No."

Money is money, after all, and many a better man has been swayed by it. He turns and leaves, his shoulders hunching as a few angry shouts follow him.

Once the man is gone, Nikki turns to her captives, a cold, hard smile sprawling over her face. "Now," she purrs, "We can talk."

She holds up a finger, though, as Riley spits a curse at her, and waves it, as if reprimanding a spoiled child. Slowly, she saunters over to the younger woman and grabs her chin for a moment, and says, "Let the important people talk, honey."

Riley spits another curse at her, and Nikki's smirk drops. She slaps Riley across the face, a movement that's so casual it's terrifying.

The group goes silent. Nikki turns back, gazes at the man she loved, who had loved her, who had refused to give in to her plans. _Well,_ she thinks triumphantly, _that'll change soon_.

First though, first he must pay for breaking her heart. She nods to the guards that are holding him, and they immediately set upon the young man. Shouts fill the clearing, and the soldiers holding the others have to fight to keep their captives subdued.

When the soldiers step back, blond hair is stained with blood, and wheezing is the only sound that fills the clearing. Nikki strides forward, her grin sharp and predatory. She digs a foot into Mac's back and rolls him over, smiling even wider at the sight of his face- bloodied, bruised, but still full of defiance. Defiance that will be so, so satisfying to break, to obliterate.

She raises her foot and kicks him right in the ribs that she can feel breaking. He lets out a strangled scream that stops abruptly as he passes out.

The rest shout, straining again at their bonds, and she smiles and turns, walking towards the vehicles parked outside the old barn.

The pain, the anger that she's gone through have paid off.

* * *

He wakes all at once, with a strangled intake of breath as the coldness of the water that's been dumped over him registers. His hair is grasped, he grunts with pain, and there's a huge guard looming over him with a cold expression plastered to his face. He looks bored, almost, and Mac knows what's going to happen, has been in this situation before, and the guard's complacency with what's going to happen adds to the horror, in a way.

There's a sound in the corner, water sloshing out of a hose into a large metal tub, and panic blooms into existence, sitting heavy on the young man's chest.

He's been in this situation before, that much is true, but he always, _always_ knew that Jack would be there to rescue him, to get him out of there. That won't happen here.

The panic grows, but he forces it down. He has to get out of here. He had to get to the others, has to _find_ the others.

The door slams open. Nikki stalks in, all heavy-but-stylish boots and dark makeup and what she perceives as a righteous anger. She's holding a stack of photos in her hands, and, unrelenting, businesslike, detached and cold, she shows them to Mac one by one.

They're his friends, laid out on cold metal tables and-

Nikki takes in his devastated look, smiles, and forces the photos into his hand. "Take a good look at your friends' bodies. It's the last time you'll see them."

She leaves then, turning on her heel and leaving Mac staring at the floor as his world crashes down around him. He's pulled out of the chair he had awoken in and forced to his knees before the tub. His face is plunged into the water, but he's numb already.

The sting of the icy water, the burn of his lungs, doesn't hurt anywhere near as much as the numbness that's spreading through his body.

* * *

Two days later, Mac is much, much worse for wear. He's crumpled in a corner of the cell, bent over his cracked ribs and blood from numerous cuts painting over the reds and blues and yellows and purples of his bruises. Nikki towers over him, triumph building in her. She crows, "Look at you now. Pathetic."

She says more, but it washes over him, the words that once would've hurt now nothing more than another drop of pain in the ocean of sorrow that threatens to drown him. As she turns to leave, she fires a parting shot, one that she knows will hurt the worst in this state. "I don't know why they ever put up with you. They'd never do this."

Then she leaves, and, once she's in the comfort of her own quarters, she sinks down on her bed. It must be triumph that she feels, it _has_ to be. This is what triumph feels like, isn't it? This nauseous, hollow feeling that fills her.

She pushes her doubts away. This is her time. She's right this time, she holds all the cards, she deserves this, she _does_ _._

* * *

Mac stares at the floor. He hasn't seen another person in four hours. They've probably left him alone.

Nikki's words come back to haunt him. What stings, what cuts away at him and leaves gashes more painful than any of the physical wounds that cover his body, is the fact that he hears a grain of truth in them.

His friends wouldn't want him to be like this, wouldn't let themselves be like this, all small and weak and _pathetic_.

He forces himself to his feet. Bozer's voice echoes in his ears, gently teasing and full of good-natured humor.

He stumbles to the door, and Patty's voice talks him into opening it- it's been unlocked for a full day now- and, once it's open, congratulating him in that stern way she had.

He makes it through the hallways, his mind a blur, and he's on autopilot. The one time he's close to being discovered, Matty's voice reverberates through his brain, telling him to improvise something to distract the guard. He does, but he can't remember what.

When he reaches the first cell he's come across since his impromptu escape, it's Riley's voice that coaxes him through breaking into the cell by rewiring a few wires, her tone that mixture of sass and kindness that it's always been.

When the cell door opens, it's Jack's voice that sounds- in the air, not in his head- and makes him jerk his gaze up to the older man's face.

They're all a bit worse for wear, all a bit ragged around the edges and gaunter than they had been a few days ago.

That doesn't stop them from breaking out of the facility, though.

* * *

After they're free, once they're with allies, Mac tells them the reason he took in the sight of their faces in the same way a man dying of thirst takes in water. They don't speak of it again, but they take care to do what they can- a comforting hand here, and smile there.

It takes a long time for Mac to be the same, but it happens.

* * *

They find others, they find the resistance that's sprung up over the months since Nikki took the Phoenix Foundation.

They fight, they win, and Mac watches as Nikki's taken away to a place where she'll never see the light of day again.

It's fitting, he thinks, that the moon that night is a new moon, one that casts no light, cloaking everything in shadow, but, at the same time, promises new beginnings.

Jack sits by him silently as they gaze up at the stars together. Moving slowly, wary of upsetting the younger man's injuries, Jack places an arm over Mac's shoulders and draws the blond into him.

When morning comes, the first light of day shines on brothers through blood, through hardship, through pain and suffering.

* * *

 **I love writing in this style?**

 **ALSO MACGYVER GOT RENEWED FOR SEASON 2**


	29. Child Soldier AU pt2

**Prequel to chapter 26, the child soldier AU.**

 **Warnings: violence towards a late teen, child soldiers. As always, nothing sexual.**

* * *

Thirteen-oh-one stared at his plate. It was full of what his meals normally consisted of: a gray mush that contained everything he'd need to stay healthy enough to complete missions. It was the same thing he'd eaten every day of his life, all nineteen years of it, ever since- well. Ever since ever.

Thirteen-oh-one began his brief daily mental review of his life so far. It had become a habit ever since he had suffered temporary amnesia on a mission and had been unable to remember the Compound for a short time.

Without the Compound, he was nothing.

Shaking off that thought, Thirteen-oh-one carried on with the task he had set himself.

He had been in the Compound ever since he was a newborn. Once he was old enough to walk and talk, he had been trained to handle weapons, resist pain, and, most importantly, taught that the Compound was everything.

The Compound was the world.

His daily review complete, Thirteen-oh-one continued to eat his meal. When he had reached about halfway, a familiar voice sounded above and in front of him, the owner standing in the doorway of the cell that Thirteen-oh-one stayed in when he wasn't training or on a mission.

"Enjoying your meal?"

Thirteen-oh-one kept his head down, his spoon clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white. He knew better than to reply.

Footsteps echoed in the small room, and a pair of shoes walked into the blond's line of sight. A tight hand clenched Thirteen-oh-one's shoulder, gripping the joint so tightly that the bones ground together painfully.

Thirteen-oh-one was careful to keep his head down and his expression blank.

The Compound didn't like any expression of weakness.

The Trainer that stood above him spoke again. "It's time for your session."

The younger man nodded, a tiny movement of his head. "Yessir."

He placed the plate of mush on the floor carefully, giving it one last regretful glance before he stood.

He wouldn't be getting any more food for another eight hours.

As he stood, a fist collided- suddenly and painfully- with his cheekbone. The teen staggered to the side, his head throbbing. The Trainer's voice filtered through the haze that threatened to overwhelm his senses, berating him. "Next time I expect you to be standing by the door waiting for me, you understand?"

Thirteen-oh-one nodded again, still keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. "Yessir."

Without another word, the Trainer turned on his heel and left through the door, not even looking back to see if Thirteen-oh-one would follow.

He followed, like always.

On his way to the training session, however, an alarm started blaring through the base. The blond's head shot up, and the Trainer pointed him down a hallway, shouting, "Intruders! Capture, not kill!"

With a brief nod towards his superior, the soldier ran towards the sounds of the scuffle that he could hear faintly underneath the screaming of the alarm.

Once he arrived, he saw two men taking on a handful of guards, and, surprisingly, winning. Seamlessly, the teen slipped into the fight, and was able to knock both men unconsciousness in under a minute.

Mutely, he stepped back, watching the guards step forward and secure the two intruders. There was a sharp yell from up the hallway, and Thirteen-oh-one turned and jogged back the way he had come.

He still had a training session to complete.

* * *

Thirteen-oh-one was sitting in his cell, drifting into a light doze and hoping to forget the pain of the new bruises that covered him, when the door clicked open. His head jerked up in surprise, wondering what was going on. He hadn't been informed during the training session that he had a mission later, and it hadn't been eight hours since the last time he had been given food.

A guard motioned to him, looking annoyed. "Get up. You've got a new job."

Thirteen-oh-one was led into a wide corridor, and a tray of food- real food, like what the Trainers and guards and Doctors ate, not the gray mush that was his fare- was thrust into his hands.

The blond blinked owlishly at the guard. The older man rolled his eyes pointed at the nearest door. "Take it in there and give it to the prisoners."

Confused, Thirteen-oh-one complied. When he opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of two men, each sitting on a small bed on opposite sides of the room. They whipped around to face him in unison, suspicion plastered over their faces.

The teen was unsure of what the protocol was in this situation, so he went with his gut. He set the tray down on the ground and immediately exited the room, only to find the same guard waiting and ready to escort him back to his cell.

* * *

Over the next few days, Thirteen-oh-one was told to repeat the same task twice a day, every day. It confused him; weren't the two men prisoners? Why were they being treated like guests?

(He pushed down the tiny voice at the back of his mind that asked why they were being treated better than he was. After all, he worked for the Compound, didn't he?)

Then days extended into a week, and a week into two, and two weeks into two months.

(Many things happened during those two months. The men talked to him, or, rather, at him at first. The first time he responded, the third week after they had been captured, they didn't respond with violence or verbal degradation. He sat in his cell that night, running that moment in his head over and over and over.

It was the first time someone had spoken to him in a way that was even remotely resembling respect.

It was a novel feeling, and one that he thought he might like.)

* * *

When two months hit, he overheard a conversation between his guards. There were advantages to others viewing you as not-quite-human, he supposed, such as being privy to all sorts of conversations. "They're going to kill those prisoners, I heard."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Eh, I guess they thought that they'd tell the kid something, but it didn't work. Besides, at this point, they're positive that they didn't get any information."

"Why don't they try and make them talk?"

"Don't ask me, man, that's what I was wondering. I guess they have their reasons."

"Yeah, whatever."

The blond thought of the way that the men talked to him, haven't hit him, haven't ignored him like he's less than them.

Thirteen-oh-one made his decision. When he gave the men their food, he announced, "They're going to kill you tomorrow. I can get you out."

The taller man's eyes strayed to his cheekbone, to the bruise that the kid acquired in training earlier. It was normal, and the blond didn't know why the man seemed surprised.

Then they nodded, and his thoughts were on more important things.


	30. Flames and Rivers

**Maybe if this gets to 200 reviews I'll do a special chapter, like take a poll and see what people want me to write?**

* * *

From the start, it was obvious to those who looked that it would never last. He was oxygen and she was fire, and together they were brighter than the very stars.

Their love was bright and burned with an intensity that was rarely matched- but it could never last. Things that

Real love isn't like that, not even the slightest. Love is a river, not a fire.

It's steady and deep and never ending, and even if you try to dam it up it'll keep pushing and fighting in a never-ending effort. It's powerful and majestic, and full of potential.

Their love was a flame that flared into existence but faded just as fast; it was a wildfire that burned itself out.

Fire cannot survive if the conditions aren't perfect, but a river can weather even the worst storms and come out stronger.


	31. hearts aching

No one talks about the missions that go wrong. The ones where forces outside their control interfere with the mission and everything comes crashing down.

They have a routine.

They traipse back to HQ quietly. Jack drives, his hands clenched tight on the steering wheel, knuckles white, and Mac leans against the window, staring out at nothing.

Patty conducts the debrief herself, lets Jack stand up and pace around, lets Mac have a moment when he trails to a stop in the middle of a sentence.

They stay at Jack's house on those nights. They tell Bozer that it's been a long day at work, or they have to stay late, because Mac can't go back and face his roommate like this, because Bozer would know something was seriously wrong.

Because neither one of them wants the other to be alone.

They sit there, in Jack's living room, staring at the walls. Eventually, Jack orders takeout- there's a drawer in his kitchen filled with menus.

Neither of them eat.

The next morning, they get up, eat breakfast, make jokes and head back for another mission.

They allow themselves one night to mourn, to agonize, to let themselves drown in guilt. Any more than that, and they won't be able to do their jobs, won't be able to save other people.

There are times though, on a mission, where Jack'll find himself fighting like his life depends on it, like someone else's life depends on it, even when it doesn't. Where Mac will find himself making something on autopilot, even when it's not needed.

No one talks about the missions that go wrong.


	32. Bad missions wMatty

**Companion piece to my chapter where Patty dealt with a mission gone wrong. requested by Tamuril2.**

* * *

Matty's aware that not every mission goes right, that mistakes aren't made, but there's nothing they can do, that every choice is a bad one, that things are out of their control.

(Chechnya is an example.)

It doesn't make the aftermath any easier, though.

She watches them traipse in quietly, heads low, Mac and Jack staying close, as do Bozer and Riley. She gives them a moment to settle in before she begins the debriefing, uses a different tone than her normal, somewhat abrasive one.

(She knows how it sounds, but she also knows the missions that have gone into the formation of that acidic tone, that defense from the cruelty of the world.)

Mac takes a minute to talk, sometimes, and she doesn't push, not like she normally does. She lets Jack be the one to nudge him back into the present, to draw him out of whatever painful memories he's reliving.

Jack doesn't make jokes, and that's the most jarring thing. After a successful mission, he's always full of laughter and puns and badly-sung song lyrics, still riding the high of the mission. Now- now, he's quiet. He speaks softly, in a tone that almost makes Matty strain to hear him, and he almost seems to be anticipating the usual barbs that Matty throws at him. She doesn't say a thing, though, other than asking questions for clarification.

Riley's expression doesn't change much, just stays blank. She sits up straight and tall, her hands clenched, her breathing sounding just the slightest bit forced, hitching every so often.

(She disappears into the bathroom halfway through the briefing, and Jack stands without a word, shooting a worried glance back at Mac, then at Matty. His boss waves the man away, and Jack nods.

Matty shifts ever so slightly closer to Mac. He stares at the table, hollow-eyed, hands still. Matty nudges a paperclip closer to the young man, and, absently, he begins unwinding it and rewinding it, the tension in his shoulders lessening a hair.

Riley and Jack reappear a few minutes later. No one mentions the tear marks on Jack's shirt or Riley's red-rimmed eyes.)

Bozer is the most unaffected, having only a vague sense of what went wrong. He's still subdued, though, and Matty makes a note to ask him for a certain mask later. He'll lose himself in the process, working away the emotions he's feeling.

(Matty might be called Matty the Hun for a reason, but no one's ever said she doesn't care about her agents.)


	33. Child Soldier AU part 3

**Part of my child soldier AU that can be found in chapters 26 and 29.**

 **For those of you following _Brother, I'll be Your Shelter_ , I'll try to have the next chapter up this weekend, but no promises, because I'm going to have a busy day Saturday and then Sunday I have to write the first draft of a five page paper, which is going to be a pain. Oh well. **

**Also, is anyone else having problems with uploading new stories/chapters to the MacGyver archive? I know Ridley C. James is, but I was wondering if it was just us or?**

 **Warnings: off-screen violence towards children. As always, nothing sexual.**

* * *

"Look, Jack," John said, then stopped. Jack watched his partner closely, wondering what the man was going to say. There was a best of silence, and then a noise came from the living room.

Together, the two men turned their heads and peered through the kitchen, where they were currently sitting, and gazed at the young man- around twenty or twenty-one, probably, but looking no older than seventeen- that was quietly sitting on the couch in a ramrod straight position.

The noise seemed to have come from Jack's dog, Archimedes, who was currently snuffling at the kid's leg. Jack let out a hiss. "Look at him. That posture isn't natural."

John let his eyes drift back to meet his friend's gaze. "Maybe he just has a really straight back."

Jack rolled his eyes. "John, you know as well as I do that that was probably beaten into him as a little kid."

John shifted. "We don't have any proof that your theory that a child soldier is correct."

Jack scoffed. "Proof? He barely talks, he's obviously not just working for someone under contract, and he's too young to have just been a prisoner or something like that."

John sighed, hanging his head. "I know. You're right. It's just- we see a lot of horrific things in out line of work, but this- things like this are the things you never want to believe."

Jack rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

There was a friendly woof from Archimedes, who was nuzzling the kid's hand now. The two men in the kitchen watched as the blond tried to ignore the dog, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

Jack sighed after a moment, then called out, "You can pet him if you want."

Immediately, the kid's hand came up and he began to pet the dog, shooting a glance out of the corner of his eye towards the kitchen and stiffening ever-so-slightly as he realized that the older men were watching him.

Jack was quiet for a moment, then grabbed John's sleeve and dragged him outside into the rapidly darkening night. "John."

John nodded. "I know."

"I don't know what to do."

"Well, he's either staying with you or going back to stay in a cell at headquarters."

"That's not happening," Jack said vehemently.

John blew out a breath, then flashed a quick grin. "I'm glad you said that. I didn't want to bring him back."

The man looked at his watch for a moment, then turned towards his car, which was sitting in the driveway. "I have to get home. Meg's making dinner tonight, and I haven't seen her and the kids in too long." He hesitated. "You're sure you'll be okay?"

Jack gave the other man a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Get out of here. I'll figure it out."

John nodded his thanks, then turned and walked out to his car. Jack watched him leave, then, mentally preparing himself, went back inside to face his new charge.

When he walked back into the living room, he was unsurprised to find the kid still in the exact same spot that he had been in before Jack had walked outside.

The older man sighed to himself. Then he sat down on the ottoman in front of the blond (and, man, did they need to find a name for him). "Okay, kid, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to get you a blanket and a pillow, and then we're both going to go to bed. Sound good?"

Cautiously, his charge nodded. Satisfied, Jack stood and, in a few minutes, was back with a pillow and blanket from his linen closet.

After making sure that the kid was settled for the night, Jack said one last thing. "If you need anything at all tonight, you're allowed to get it."

With that, he left the kid to go to sleep and headed upstairs to his own bed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

At approximately Not The Morning o'clock, there was a crashing sound from the first floor. Jack booted awake and dashed down the stairs, readying himself for anything.

Well, almost anything. He didn't expect to see his charge standing by the entryway to the kitchen, a broken vase at the kid's feet.

Jack walked over to the younger man, carefully drawing him away from the glass. As he turned to go into the kitchen to get a dustpan, though, the blond spoke.

"I think it's broken," he said, staring at the vase. Jack didn't say anything, carefully watching the kid. Then, in a dull tone, the blond continued, "I think I'm broken, too."

Jack swallowed against the lump that was suddenly constructing his throat, then made a decision. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, the blond raised his gaze to meet Jack's. Carefully, slowly, the older man raised his arms and draped them around the younger. The kid stiffened in his arms, almost trembling with tension, as Jack spoke. "You're not broken. This? This isn't your fault. We'll get you through this, and you'll never have to be alone again."

At some point during Jack's speech, the young man in his arms had stopped trembling.

Jack held his breath and waited.

After a moment, the younger man raised his arms and- awkwardly returned Jack's hug. Jack held him tighter as silent sobs began to wrack the kid's body. "You're gonna be okay," he said quietly. "I got you. I got you."


	34. Betrayal part 2

**A dialogue-only chapter based around the quote from incorrect macgyvercbsquotes over on tumblr, "Yeah, I have a lot of questions. First of all, how dare you?"**

 **If you have a tumblr, I'd highly recommend checking this account out. It's hilarious. (also, you can find me on tumblr at suaimhneas-peace)**

 **Also, it's been making my day whenever someone comments on an old chapter of any of my works, and that's something that I've really been needing lately, so special thanks to all y'all that've been doing that.**

* * *

"Yeah, I have a lot of questions. First of all, how dare you?"

"Bozer-"

"No. No! I've put up with this for too long! You've lied to me, hidden things from me, and now this?"

"Bozer, just let me talk, please-"

"You know what, Mac? Fine. Go ahead. Talk. What are you going to say this time? What excuse will you cook up?"

"..."

"Don't look at me like I'm being ridiculous. I'm not the one that betrayed their best friend's trust yet again!"

"Bozer, look, I apologized! I didn't mean it!"

"Don't give me that-"

"Woah, guys, what's going on?"

"Oh, Jack, great. I'm sure you can agree with me when I say that this is a horrible crime."

"I mean, I don't know if I'd call it horrible, but-"

"I can't believe you're taking his side. Mac, wipe that smug look off your face-"

"I don't look smug-"

"Okay, obviously y'all have this under control. I'm leaving."

"Fine, Jack, go ahead and leave. Let me just deal with this traitor by myself-"

"You can't keep accusing me of betraying you when I eat the last of the cereal without realizing it because I'm in the middle of working on something, Bozer!"


	35. Fight

Can be considered a part of my "war" series.

* * *

They're so different, that's true, but they're ready to fight for the truth and even if that isn't what is commonly accepted, it's theirs and it won't be taken away.

Webber, short and compact, a package of cunning and cutting remarks and sharp glares.

Thornton, a contrast to her friend, tall and cold and collected, with a stare that terrifies all who across her.

Bozer, good-natured quips that make you underestimate him until you're on the ground clutching your wounds and he's halfway through delivering another kick.

Davis, full of righteous anger and her head held high against the unfairness of the world.

Dalton, strong and tall and intimidating, but fair and level-headed- until you go against those he cares about; he turns into a storm when provoked.

Finally, MacGyver, lean and angular, sharp edges and hard eyes that have seen too much, full of suppressed anger and frustration against the world that's taken so much from him.

Apart, they're forces of destruction, something to be reckoned with, but together they're unstoppable, and all who try are destined for failure from the moment the thought enters their mind.


	36. Kintsugi

They're on a mission in Japan when Jack finds something that he thinks describes Mac. It's the art of Kintsugi, of fixing broken things with gold, of showing that these things are more beautiful, more precious for having a history that is not- well, unbroken, for lack of a better word.

Jack watches as Mac laughs with a local kid, showing the boy how to play a game his grandfather taught him.

(Would his father have taught him that game, if he had stayed?)

He leans against a tree nearby the boy's parents, and turns to them when they speak. "You must be very proud of your son."

Jack looks at Mac, a bit surprised. He knows he's a good few years older than the nineteen-year-old, but still. Does he really look old enough to be his father?

Jack huffs out a laugh and speaks almost without thinking about his words. "Brother, actually, but yeah. I am proud."

(Later, Jack will realize that it's the first time he's ever called Mac his brother to someone other than his closest friends or Mac himself.)

The kid looks up and catches his eye, his grin lighting up his face. Jack jerks his head towards the car, wordlessly letting Mac know that it's time to leave.

Mac says a few last words to the younger boy and jogs towards Jack.

The two ride back to the airport in silence, but it's a peaceful sort.

(Jack is glad, in a selfish kind of way, that the kid across from him, asleep in the passenger seat, has had such a hard life. It means that he gets to see this young man grow up, gets to watch him mature and flourish in an environment away from his father.

He gets to watch- and be a part of- the gold filling the cracks that the kid's life has left on him.)


	37. Fights

**Credit to inccorectmacgyvercbsquotes over on tumblr for the first two lines of this fic.**

* * *

"Why do you have to be you all the time?"

"You think it's easy?"

"Well, what's so hard about sitting there and yelling at me every time I try to do something?"

"Mac, look me in the eyes and tell me you think it's easy to be me."

"I think it's easy to be you, Jack. There. You happy now? Actually, don't answer that. I'm not done talking. All you ever do is act like you care, and then the second I mess up, you're jumping down my throat. In what world is that hard?"

"Look, kid, just because you're angry that you messed up doesn't mean-"

"Doesn't mean what? Doesn't mean that I can't make mistakes?"

"All I'm saying is- Bozer, what's you do that for?"

"Every town you guys play Call of Duty it gets too heated. I'm not sitting in the kitchen and listening to you guys fight anymore."

"...Can he do that?"

"He's your friend, man. And he gets scary when he's angry. I'm not fighting with him."

"Fair enough."


	38. Danger

**This is the second chapter to this fic that I posted today. The previous chapter is also new. Also, credit again to incorrectmacgyvercbsquotes for the first two lines of this chapter.**

* * *

"Just sit and try not to break anything."

"No promises."

"I'm not joking, Mac. Don't be an idiot."

"Matty, you wound me. You really think that I, a master of stealth, would- would-"

"Try and move while nursing two broken ribs and a cracked one? Yes."

"Well, I can't just let you go off by yourself and fight these guys."

"Yes, you can, and yes, you will. You're in no shape to fight anyone off, much less whoever's talented enough to keep tracking us."

"Matty, I really think I should help-"

"No, Mac. Stay here. I wasn't Jack's supervisor for nothing. Whoever these bozos are will be nothing compared to Jack when he wanted to get on my nerves."

"I still don't think-"

"Right now you need to sit down and do exactly as I say, because one, I am in charge, and two, if it goes south you need to get out of here fast. I've lost too many people to lose someone else that- that I care about. Understood?"

"...Yes ma'am."

"Good. If you hear me yelling, get out of here fast."

* * *

 **And then Jack swooped in with reinforcements and saved the day. I just really wanted to show some caring!Matty. I might expand on this one day, who knows.**


	39. The Fish Incident

**Summary: Mac gets a fish. Jack gets a laugh. They both get a meal. Takes place pre-canon on a mission somewhere.**

 **a/n: working on a longer fic rn and needed to post something, so. you guys are getting this. also, dialogue only fics are actually fun?**

 **also, a huge thank you to everyone who leaves reviews on my stories. they really motivate me to keep writing.**

* * *

"Jack, I'm telling you, there's no way this can go wrong."

"I don't know, man. Something about you balancing on that rock and holding a homemade net of twigs makes me nervous."

"Okay, first of all, it's made from vines, not twigs, and I know you know that because you helped me find them. Secondly, it'll be fine. Quit being such a worrywart. And stop talking, you'll scare off all the fish."

"Fine, man. I'll just be sitting over here waiting for you to fall in."

"Whatever."

* * *

"...Don't say a word."

"Nice fish you got there."

"Yeah, it is pretty big, isn't it?"

"Would've been nicer if you didn't have to go and jump into the water after it."

"Jack!"

"Hey, I call it like I see it. Also, aren't we supposed to check in with Thornton in five minutes?"

"..."

"Better have your excuse prepared, buddy."

"At least I'm doing something. I got us dinner! What have you been doing?"

"Well, from the looks of it, I'm fishing you out of rivers."

"Was that a pun?"

"What do you think?"

"...I'm going to go clean the fish."

"Sounds good. See you in... three minutes."

"Shut up, Jack."


End file.
